


Upside Down

by sereneasthesea



Category: Just Music Entertainment, Show Me the Money (Korea TV)
Genre: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) References, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Religious Guilt, Swearing, like a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereneasthesea/pseuds/sereneasthesea
Summary: Byungyoon found himself in a situation where he was unhappy with his life, doubting his beliefs, and devastatingly in love with his own best friend.
Relationships: Lee Byeongyoon | BewhY/Ryu Sungmin | C Jamm
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HI! so um, apparently, yesterday, 22nd October 2020, Bewhy decided to inform the whole world that he's going to get married. So I don't know. Meh. I'm posting this, finally; exactly the day after. Please bear with all mistakes I incidentally made, since English is not my first language.

Lee Byungyoon wasn’t even sure why he loved his friend-since-high-school so much. Not in the lover kind of way, but in the platonic way.

Nope.

Who was he kidding?

He loved the ugly bastard, he loved him, he wanted him. The realisation dawned on him three years ago, when he caught Sungmin playfully flirting with a mutual friend of theirs. He had crushed his uncapped water bottle and the water spilled everywhere.

To made things worse, the liquid inside the bottle wasn’t even water. What in the name of Jesus—someone had (possibly) drunkenly filled the bottle with a fiery red liquid and it was everywhere, goddammit.

“Bollocks.” He muttered, but nobody could hear him over the blast of the song playing from the DJ booth.

Byungyoon realised that he was utterly, completely, fucked.

He was jealous.

The words “I could definitely bring you home, if you want to,” from Sungmin’s mouth echoed in his mind like a broken stereo. His playful smirk was reflected when Byungyoon stared at the empty wall beside the stalls.

He felt like he hated the world.

Deep down, he knew that the smile didn’t belong to him. And it never would. He wasn’t the only one Sungmin could _playfully_ flirt with, but he just couldn’t help it. He thought it was meant only for him, the flirty smirk, the honey-dripped flirty voice. But he had been wrong. Sungmin was never his, and fuck, he could do anything he wanted to do with anyone he wanted. But Byungyoon couldn’t help to feel bitter.

He went to the bathroom, and thank fuck it was dead empty. People were busy on the dance floor, he concluded. When he was cleaning the stains in his trouser, Sungmin came standing beside him, face all funny.

What now, Byungyoon had thought. Did he find out that Byungyoon was jealous—or worse, possibly in love with him? God must had been thinking that this was some sort of a hilarious joke.

“Seunghyun just came out.” Sungmin blurted. His face was pale enough for people to assume that he was sick.

“Yeah… what?” Byungyoon replied distractedly. He was done wiping the stains from his trouser, he had thrown the tissue a moment ago, but he kept fiddling the soft fabric. He couldn’t bear to see Sungmin’s face. Not when the crimson red creeped out from his neck to his face.

“You’re quite drunk, aren’t you?” Sungmin turned his head to Byungyoon, and Byungyoon looked up from his trouser. He stared hard at their reflection in the mirror in front of them. Sungmin then proceeded to—to touch his burning face—his cheeks—fuck—Sungmin cupped his cheeks with his left hand—and snorted in delight. “God, you’re so drunk. Look how red you are,”

Byungyoon was silently relieved that his embarrassment is covered up by alcohol. But Sungmin still didn’t let go, and it was hard to produce a coherent full sentence with those distracting fingers. They were perfectly still for a moment and Byungyoon never prayed harder in his life; please, dear god, he knew he let god down by doing whatever he was doing—too much alcohol _,_ hopelessly in love with a _man_ , he knew, but please, let them stay like this. He stared down, and it never failed to amaze him that Sungmin was rather short. Sungmin hated the fact that he had to look up if he wanted to talk to him, Byungyoon recalled. But still, if they could just edge closer, spreading warmth, and Byungyoon could feel Sungmin’s hair on his chin—

He was probably drunk himself, Byungyoon realised. “Seunghyun just what?” he croaked, and Sungmin let go. Byungyoon felt like somebody had punched him in the gut, feeling empty and at loss. This was not good.

“He came out, just when you left for bathroom. He told everyone about it. He’s gay.” Sungmin’s face drained its colour once again.

Well. Byungyoon wasn’t exactly surprised, but Sungmin’s reaction was alarming so he didn’t say anything. Instead, he fixed his gaze.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Sungmin accused, his eyebrows almost met, almost. Fuck.

Fuck. He could stare at this man all day, Byungyoon thought in a detachment.

“Byungyoon!”

Byungyoon inhaled sharply. “Well, yes. He’s not very subtle either,” _and he was flirting with you, goddammit,_ he wanted to add.

“What the fuck—why does everyone know, apparently, that Cheon Seunghyun is fucking gay—except me?” Sungmin was gobsmacked. “More importantly, how can you tell, choir boy?”

Byungyoon felt the irritation prickling his eyes. “I’m not in choir, Sungmin, how many times I should mention it—” and then Byungyoon raised both of his brows. “—oh and, we met him, remember? When he was with some guy, at the Henz’s back alley, I don’t know, two months ago? I thought he owe us explanations, at first.” Byungyoon frowned at the memory. Did Sungmin seriously not know that?

“But… I thought—so he was d—dating that Mingyu or something guy?” Sungmin choked. “I thought they were only friends!” he continued, flummoxed with the whole situation.

“Sungmin, they hold hands—

“That doesn’t make them boyfriends, really! Are you saying that we’re boyfriends, then, because we often held hands back at school? Even though we did it only to piss off the guys, because the girls went crazy when they see us?” Sungmin cut in. He frowned.

“And kissed.” Byungyoon said dejectedly. “That’s why you have to let me finish first, as usual.” He stared at his own reflection in the mirror.

Byungyoon nodded absentmindedly at the memories of high school. Yes, they were flirting in front of everyone, _for fun._ They would hold hands, and got into fights because of it. Sungmin was always like that, really, he would piss someone off by doing exactly what he’d been told not to. And Byungyoon was his partner in crime, as people at school used to say, he thought it was quite entertaining anyway. They would always sit next to each other, and spent the whole day together. The girls went crazy at the sight of them in close proximity, and the guys hated them passionately because they stole attention.

“What the f—

“Stop swearing, my head hurts.” Byungyoon winced. He steadied himself with his two palms on the countertops, it felt so goddamn heavy.

“But I didn’t see them when they—kissed! And you didn’t fucking tell me anything,” Sungmin was still raging, even though he managed to lower his voice. So the swearing wasn’t really a problem. It was just, Sungmin was too fucking loud.

Byungyoon didn’t really understand why Sungmin got really worked up because of this. They had, in fact, many acquaintances that are gay. Or bisexual. Or pansexual.

Not that the public knew, though, but those rappers—who acted tough as hell and even seemed homophobic by their lyrics—were just afraid that the public would know their secret. Byungyoon couldn’t justify their act, still, but he understood them. Living in a neo-confucian country wasn’t easy for people like him.

“I didn’t know you missed it, and it’s not my business either. Why are you so worked up about this, anyway?” Byungyoon blurted as he managed to stare back at Sungmin, and he regretted it as soon as he saw Sungmin’s mouth formed the shape of a perfect O.

Byungyoon was afraid that Sungmin would expose him—he might as well ask if Byungyoon was gay, too. He was afraid to see Sungmin’s reactions.

He couldn’t be ready for the follow up questions.

“I mean—we have gay friends, Sungmin. It’s not like it’s something new,” he quickly added.

Sungmin visibly deflated. He bit his left side lower lip, thinking. It was a distracting sight, and Byungyoon made fists with his hands as the last resort to stop himself from reaching out. He put his fists inside his jacket’s pockets. “Well, yeah. But not in our circle, I suppose. And I’m used to—physical— _friendly_ _touch_ , so I never really think holding hands is a _dating_ thing.” He made an air quote when he said dating, and Byungyoon didn’t know why.

He did not want to know.

“Or, you’re just, really dense.” Byungyoon offered with a raising eyebrow.

“And—I kissed you, remember, in front of the crowds, when you won? It doesn’t mean anything right? I mean, I was so proud of you, of us—well I still am, and I…” Sungmin trailed off, seeming like he wasn’t sure what he was about to say. He looked troubled, and god, he was achingly beautiful.

“Yeah, it doesn’t mean anything, really.” Byungyoon’s pursed his lips. He fucking lied, please don’t believe him, Sungmin—

“Right?” Sungmin’s fingers stopped fidgeting and his face lit up.

He believed the lie.

Byungyoon felt numb. He was not sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed, but Sungmin didn’t suspect anything and it was best for both of them, he had drawn a decision. So instead, he straightened up and say: “I know what you mean. No, Sungmin, nobody will suspect that you’re gay or anything. People know you, anyway. They know you are affectionate to your friends,”

The forehead kiss, Byungyoon stared at his reflection—that felt like a hundredth time—for a second before turning his head again to Sungmin. He was so pathetic. He was so fucking pathetic. Of course it didn’t mean anything for Sungmin The Straight As Hell Guy, but for god’s sake, he couldn’t sleep for two days. It didn’t help that the short clip went viral and he just couldn’t seem to escape the memory. People congratulated him too, and it was the worst part because they always, they never failed, to mention Sungmin. _Congratulations!_ _Sungmin must’ve been so proud of you,_ and _When you won Sungmin couldn’t contain his happiness to himself, he was so cute,_ and the worst of the worst: _I can see why he’s your best friend. He is very supportive of you, you know? But the kiss was unnecessary, Jesus Christ, people would assume that you’re both sinning!_

When his dad had said that, Byungyoon only shrugged, even though he was quite perturbed. He dismissed it, and thought his dad was just too old to understand their generation’s take on physical affection. He didn’t really know he was gay, either. He once thought that he was asexual—he never really felt aroused seeing women’s body, or men’s, but he was dead wrong. When Sungmin had kissed him on that stage, he was undeniably aroused when he got home. He dismissed it, though, instead he blamed the adrenaline—and serotonin, probably. He liked being on stage, and he felt that he and Sungmin finally succeeded, they were acknowledged. It was normal, he thought to himself. Even though he spent two days before he finally reached that conclusion.

Of course the forehead kiss didn’t even mean anything for Sungmin.

“But—

Byungyoon stared at his eyes, and Sungmin lowered his gaze. What was it, now?

“Never mind.” He said instead, and if Byungyoon wasn’t madly in love with him, he would strangle Ryu Oblivious Sungmin right away. “You’re right, Byungyoon. Let’s get out. People will start thinking we had sex in the bathroom,” he laughed.

On second thought, he would strangle the man. It didn’t matter that he’s in love, he would strangle Sungmin. But instead, Byungyoon blushed like a madman. “See, you’re not supposed to joke about things like that—

Sungmin had laughed again, and he pulled Byungyoon’s wrist and led him out. “I promise I’ll be responsible for once and drive you home. I haven’t touched a single drink tonight, and not planning to.”

Byungyoon let a small smile escape behind him, feeling helpless. That night, Byungyoon made a mental note. _Apparently, I’m gay for Ryu Sungmin._

* * *

Byungyoon dropped his head onto the steering wheel, just for a second. He startled himself when he heard the horn from his own car, and swore.

He had to make things right. Even though he really didn’t know what was wrong.

Sungmin had been actively avoiding him. Well, he still replied his usual texts, but it was… different. He only said that he was home all day, and that he had not eaten since this morning. Something was up. Byungyoon dreaded to know, so he went out and fetched their favourite menus from the small Chinese food restaurant they had been going to since high school.

Did he finally decide to avoid Byungyoon because people were suspecting them dating? But it was not like it was something new, he shook his head—though the gossips did get more ridiculous. Or did he finally know how Byungyoon felt about him?

Shit.

Byungyoon recalled that they’ve been called the high-school sweethearts by their friends, and of course it was meant to be a _joke_. But after everything that had happened, Byungyoon wasn’t convinced that people merely see them as friends. Hell, he couldn’t even convince himself that they were only friends. The feeling was not mutual, he _knew_ , but he was at least head over heels for his best friend. What a bitter truth, he smiled—winced—to himself.

As far as Byungyoon knew, Ryu Sungmin labelled himself as a completely, a hundred percent, straight bloke. Well, a straight bloke who was a magnet for trouble but thank fuck, Lee Byungyoon was always there for him. Lee Byungyoon who believed a little bit too much in Jesus—Sungmin had once said, which Byungyoon now could answer: “it’s different, it’s not like that anymore,” but Sungmin never brought the topic up again—and a little too credulous that he would believe Sungmin blindly and even fight for him—Sungmin continued, while smiling with his forehead bleeding. Now that was still true, at least. Not that Sungmin wasn’t capable of defending himself, but Byungyoon was literally always beside him.

Sungmin was also a straight bloke who had the sensitivity of an earthworm. He was totally clueless about people, and he wasn’t observant, the bastard. He never knew when a girl liked him until Byungyoon told him, or better, the girl said it herself. He didn’t even know Seunghyun was gay though Seunghyun was being painfully obvious. He had no antenna for people’s feelings, and it was both a blessing and a curse for Byungyoon.

So, no, Sungmin wouldn’t ignore him because he had known Byungyoon’s feelings about him. It was something else, but Byungyoon couldn’t think of anything.

There was this problem, though. Neither Sungmin nor Byungyoon are comfortable with what people had been saying about them being madly attracted to each other. Byungyoon was uncomfortable because they sometimes had come too close to the truth; and Sungmin was uncomfortable because he didn’t know that was how the world work. Sungmin wanted to express himself freely without being speculated of anything. He wanted to be comfortable as he was used to with Byungyoon, _with the_ _touching and everything_ , and it was so hard for him to do so since people would actually find them and gossiped about them. They had practically ignored the gossips when those first came around, it was familiar after all; just like high school. But as the years go by, people would actually come to them, when they spotted either Byungyoon or Sungmin on the streets, and they’d say embarrassing things like how Sungmin was really in love with him because of the _unnecessary touches,_ or that Byungyoon was madly in love with Sungmin because apparently, _eyes don’t lie._

Okay, they knew that privacy meant nothing when they debuted, but those were too much. Sungmin felt uncomfortable because he felt like people misunderstood him, he loathed being misunderstood, and he hated the fact that people find his way of showing affection _weird._ Byungyoon once told him that people didn’t find it weird, they were just not used to it.

“Not weird. Yeah. But they always assume that I had motives, and it fucking sucks. It’s just me, you know. It’s just how I am.” Sungmin had replied, and Byungyoon was silenced.

Byungyoon had thought too much about Sungmin being homophobic. So what, he wanted to ask, so what if people thought he was gay? Why did he despise the idea so much, anyway—he wasn’t the one who grew up with an overly religious family. Fuck. Did Sungmin think being gay was worse than being a psychopath?

He wanted to confront Sungmin, somehow. But at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Anyway, Sungmin would definitely ask him _why._ How was he supposed to answer that? “ _Yes, well, I’m gay, and I hate it when you say homophobic things like that because you’re partially responsible to my gayness because I thought I was asexual until I found myself jealous when I saw you flirting with Seunghyun—not to mention that I was indeed, aroused when you kissed my forehead.”_?

Byungyoon shook his head in pure horror.

On the other side, Byungyoon felt like he was being seen through. He wasn’t subtle, he thought, since some people knew—but how did one refrain their eyes from shooting love arrows when their crush was around, anyway?

It didn’t strain their relationship in any way, yet—Byungyoon hoped, but he knew deep down, that it would—knowing Sungmin’s personality.

And it was starting to show.


	2. Chapter 2

“Were you seriously thinking that I’ve been flirting with you? All _this_ time?” Byungyoon had asked point-blank. His face flushed slightly, and he dearly wished that Sungmin wouldn’t be aware of his current state. “We’re friends, and it’s only normal for me to bring you food—especially when your _dear friend_ hasn’t eaten since this morning.” He continued, though he’s unsure with himself.

Sungmin stood frozen for a solid moment before he can finally reply, “I… I was clearly out of my mind, then.” He then coughed a little, left hand covering his mouth; and Byungyoon found it weird. Why did he hesitate, why did he control himself, Byungyoon wanted to ask. _I’m still the same boy you taught rhymes and bars, Sungmin, I’m still_ only _your best friend and even though I dearly hoped so, nothing has to change. Talk to me, you fucking suddenly-quiet bastard,_ he wanted to say, but didn’t.

There was an uncomfortable silence—they were still outside Sungmin’s flat, for fuck’s sake—until Byungyoon prompted. “And?”

Sungmin muttered something quite like “for fuck’s sake,” but Byungyoon could barely hear him. He made a gesture which meant _let’s-go-inside-because-we’re-going-to-have-a-long-talk_ , and it never bothered Byungyoon much that he knew his best friend’s gestures like the back of his hand. Or should he, now?

“I don’t know; to be honest, it feels awkward and so fucking suffocating to be around you, and to be seen with you these days. Stupid morons and their fucking stupid mouths—I know I said that I don’t get affected by bollocks like these but seriously, I’m losing my nerves here.” Sungmin sighed as he walked through his living room to the kitchen, Byungyoon silently followed him after shutting the door close.

“Well it affected me too, thank you very much for _asking_. And let’s face it, it’s not like we can do anything about it.” Byungyoon rushed himself to the stool around the kitchen table. His hands reached the paper bag with both of their foods in it; placing one box on Sungmin’s side of the table and one on his. He unwrapped the plastic on Sungmin’s chopsticks and adeptly separated them into two equal long pieces—a skill that his dearest friend could never do. And it was only a habit, really, when they were eating together; that Byungyoon would always separate Sungmin’s chopsticks—a trivial matter of more than ten years of friendship.

A quick, disturbing thought flashed through his mind _,_ was it normal for him to do this? And he shook the thought away _. It is._ His feelings didn’t even count for this, Sungmin was his friend, goddammit.

“I know. I’m sorry, I was being a dick.” Sungmin sat in front of him, two cans of coke already sitting in the middle of their foods. “But I can’t help it, you know. Even a minute ago, I was debating myself whether I should invite you to come inside or not.” He shrugged, and he started fidgeting the chopsticks in his hand.

Byungyoon didn’t know if he should feel offended or relieved, but Sungmin was in the exact same place as him. He can’t really blame his friend for being paranoid and overly cautious. Sungmin was the type to speak his mind, too. “I understand.” Was the only words he managed to say. He reached his chopsticks, separating them, and he then closed his eyes for a moment, mouthing a quick prayer.

Old habits die hard.

Byungyoon lifted his bowl of jjajangmyeon closer to his mouth and started eating.

Sungmin frowned at Byungyoon’s figure. He _hated_ eating in silence and Lee Byungyoon knew that better than anyone else. “Is that it?” Sungmin questioned, trying not to sound irritated but he failed miserably, anyway.

Byungyoon made an eye contact with Sungmin, and after the count of three, he looked away. God, help him. Jesus Christ. “I don’t know what to say,” he coaxed, and at the moment he knew that he was lying—there was so much to say but he didn’t know how to say it without making his feelings obvious—fuck. He hated himself.

“You could’ve told me something.” Sungmin muttered, still visibly irritated. Byungyoon mentally slapped himself. If he knew Sungmin like the back of his own hand, of course Sungmin knew so much about him, too. Who was he kidding, anyway?

Byungyoon probably stared at Sungmin for too long, since he earned an awkward stare from him. But Sungmin shook his head, and continued: “I don’t know, anything—like, like, how jerk I am for thinking to leave you outside when you’ve brought me food, or, asking how my day was—it was in fact, shitty, thank you very much for _not_ asking.” Sungmin accused. All the frustrations he held inside was slowly evaporating. “You’re not being you, Byungyoon.” He mumbled.

Byungyoon had placed his jjajangmyeon bowl back on the table. What was he going to say, now? _I love you more than just friends and I know it’s weird but please say it back_ —

“Right. Um, I think I should stop giving a fuck about the medias. And people who don’t know us, in general. I mean, I think you should too, Sungmin. If I’m making an effort for our friendship then you should too. I can’t be myself when you treat me like I’m someone else,” He said carefully, mouth processing words faster than his brain. Screw everything. “You even changed your passcode and people looked at me like I was going to break-in!” Byungyoon couldn’t help to add, since he had the maturity of a five years old.

“Yeah, about that… I haven’t got the chance to tell you. I changed it because some weird man was able to go inside the building with my passcode. I freaked out, so I decided to change it.”

Byungyoon burst out laughing, to Sungmin’s visible surprise. The awkward, unwanted tension was finally gone, even though Sungmin dodged his main point. But never mind. He wanted his best friend back, and now, it would just be enough.

“I told you six-five-four-three-two-one is not a good combination.” Byungyoon remarked, a trace of delight visible in his eyes.

“I hate all of your _I told you so_ s but fuck, you’re right. At least only this one time.” Sungmin huffed, the corner of his lips twitching. He scooped a huge bite from his jjamppong, and asked Byungyoon with his mouth full of noodles. “Aren’t you going to ask what did I change it to?”

Sungmin was eating, to Byungyoon’s relief. He could be stubborn sometimes, since he knew that Byungyoon was sensitive towards people who didn’t eat their foods properly—more than Byungyoon could count, Sungmin would use it for his advantages, the dumbarse. “Well, I was about to. But I hope you didn’t change it to your birth date because that would be very stupid.” He commented in amusement. He lifted his once-abandoned bowl and he finally could ease up.

It had been an hour ago, when Byungyoon was contemplating whether to see his best friend or not. His stomach twisted into knots—and he was ready to accept that their over ten years of friendship could fall apart. Or at least he thought he was. But after he saw Sungmin’s surprised face in his front door, heard his voice swearing at Byungyoon for being—well, himself—and seeing his attempt to hide a smile when Byungyoon laughed at him, he couldn’t be ready. He would do anything to not lose that smile, that face, that voice, that smile…

 _Get a fucking grip, Byungyoon,_ He had thought to himself.

“Well, I can proudly say that I didn’t change my passcode to nine-three-o-two-two-eight. I’m not dumb, you know.” Sungmin sniggered. His eyes were bright; his now shoulder-length hair waved softly behind his ears. Byungyoon knew, those glints in his eyes showed when he was happy—and he also knew that he had the strong urge to ask Sungmin to tie his hair. Shit.

Was Sungmin… happy to see Byungyoon? Or was he happy because he had wanted jjamppong and he finally got it, and it was awfully delicious that his eyes reflected the lights?

Byungyoon’s eyes narrowed in a fake suspicion. “I’m not sure about that, though, but okay, whatever.” He teased.

“Fuck you.” Sungmin frowned, though not at Byungyoon—to his jjamppong. He then proceeded to pick orange bits from his bowl—carrots, Byungyoon realised—and gestured Byungyoon to open his mouth. Byungyoon happily obliged.

“I already told the lady to not put carrots inside. She forgot, apparently.” Byungyoon had said it before Sungmin could nag him. He wouldn’t forget things like this about Sungmin, but when incidents like this happened, Sungmin would hassle him nevertheless.

But it wasn’t like he complained or anything, he got used to it. Instead, he joked, almost in a mocking way. “It’s not even that much of a carrot, you idiot. Grow up,”

“What the hell, man. We’ve been going there since, what, high school? But she didn’t even remember?” Sungmin’s nose wrinkled. “We hardly ever change our menu choice either!”

“Well, she won’t forget you I’m sure. It’s just, we’re always eating there instead of takeaways. And I was alone,” Byungyoon replied, achingly honest.

“Obviously. She’d remember me, because I’m remarkable and beautiful.” Sungmin smirked. “We should really go there, next time. I want to see if she remembers me.” He added.

“Yeah, yeah, you are.” Byungyoon rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t lying. _The most beautiful person on the planet._ Fuck, he was getting all cheesy and melodramatic.

Sungmin had laughed when Byungyoon said that, and he talked about his day. He didn’t go anywhere, he basically locked himself inside his flat, he admitted. He spent the day inside until his maltese dog, Noona, demanded for a walk. Sungmin didn’t really tell Byungyoon which part of it was shitty, since he was having a quite pleasant day beside that he didn’t eat anything. Byungyoon suspected that the shitty event happened when he walked Noona to the park nearby.

Sungmin obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Byungyoon didn’t push. “I still think that naming your dog Noona is weird, by the way.” He said as he opened his can of soda, and starting to empty it.

Sungmin just laughed. “It isn’t! Back then when I was dating Hyera it was so damn hilarious. I’d call ‘noona!’ and when she came, I’d say I was calling for the dog.”

Hyera. The girl he was dating until four years ago.

Out of every women Sungmin had dated, he and Hyera had lasted for the longest time in his dating history. They dated for almost two years, and to be honest, they looked good together. Sungmin was really himself when he was with her. He wasn’t trying to be mature and he enjoyed making a fool out of himself in front of her.

When Sungmin called to tell him that they had split, Byungyoon was shocked. It was him who caused it, apparently. He all but ran to Sungmin’s flat, and it was the only time he saw Sungmin in the verge of tears. He didn’t cry. But he was devastated, and Byungyoon basically had to babysit him for the next three days.

Hyera, as Sungmin quoted, had said that she was tired, and that “I don’t like sharing, and I feel like Byungyoon has the bigger half of you.”

Sungmin didn’t look like he was blaming Byungyoon as he told what Hyera said to him. In fact, he didn’t look like he understood what Hyera was talking about.

Obviously, Byungyoon didn’t know what to say—it was nonsense, he had thought, so he only sat beside Sungmin and put his right hand over Sungmin’s shoulder. The crook of his body was being filled by Sungmin’s and god, they were a perfect fit; as if they were made for each other—but he didn’t know about it back then; it all became clear sometime after his realisation. Byungyoon was so damn stupid.

He remembered how the heat spread quickly from Sungmin’s body, how his head rested on Byungyoon’s neck, how Sungmin’s cinnamon scent filled his lungs. He’d been aware that Sungmin’s coping mechanism was to talk, so he had listened.

Hyera knew before he did. He should’ve probably thanked her for trying to make Sungmin realise it. He should probably apologise too, since he had internally accused Hyera for only using him as an easy escape. Little did Byungyoon back then know that she was right. Partially, still; because Sungmin wasn’t in love with him. Sungmin was just content to spend his time with Byungyoon.

“Earth to Byungyoon, hey, dickhead!” Sungmin waved a hand in front of his face. He looked like he was exasperated but fond of Byungyoon at the same time. Byungyoon was always zoning out, it had become a habit for him. And it was Sungmin’s fault. “I’m going to take this away before you chew the plastic too, okay?” Sungmin announced, gently removing the chopstick from Byungyoon’s right hand. It brushed the tip of his mouth. He took the plastic bowl with his other hand.

Byungyoon was sure that he blushed at the almost skin contact. His left hand grazed his nape, hoping the crimson red wasn’t really obvious. “Whatever, wanker.”

“I’m so proud of your swearing skills. You’ve improved a lot!” Sungmin threw his head back to laugh in a delightful sound. His Adam’s apple was bobbing along his laugh, and Byungyoon wanted to kiss it so badly. The thought horrified him.

“You should give me credit for it,” Sungmin said as he went to the sitting room and dropped himself in the enormous sofa. He liked to sleep in it too, and he probably slept there last night—or this morning, Byungyoon amended himself—since there was a blanked draped on the back of the sofa.

Byungyoon trailed. Every time, either in his flat or Sungmin’s, they always watched some crappy telly shows after eating together. “I will. When people from the church ask me why I’ve now used the word ‘damn’ in my lyrics, I’ll tell them that Ryu Sungmin taught me.” He chuckled, and he set himself comfortable in the left side—his side—of the sofa, leaning onto the armrest.

Sungmin looked at him in horror. “Fuck you. Don’t—I take it back. They’ll terrorise me, you terrible fucker. I can’t live in peace,” he remarked. His eyes were fixed to the big screen, and he then continued: “It’s either a not-so-shitty cop show or a shitty-romance-between-a-writer-and-a-detective-awfully-good cop show. Which one?” like he didn’t even have other conversation than picking a show to watch.

Byungyoon shook his head in disbelief, eyes glinting with mirth. “I take Brooklyn Nine-Nine over Castle every damn time, and you know that.”

“I know you have a soft spot for Charles Boyle.” Sungmin teased as he put the remote down, and he—goddammit—it was not like they didn’t usually do this but—he placed his head in Byungyoon’s lap.

Byungyoon was so screwed. He had narrowly managed to not choke himself, and he reminded himself to breathe. This wasn’t so bad, after all. Ryu Sungmin wouldn’t do anything more to push him to the edge—

Ryu Sungmin did push him to the edge. His free hand reached around for _god-knows-what_ , and when he finally found it sitting contently on top of a cushion, he gripped Byungyoon’s fingers and dragged them atop of his head.

“I told you I had a shitty day,” he said, as if it would explain anything. But Byungyoon knew, anyway, so his fingers started moving slowly from Sungmin’s temple to his hair in repeat.

Sungmin made a content noise.

“You didn’t really tell me why was your day shitty,” Byungyoon said, eyes meeting Sungmin’s. Sungmin was staring at him, for crying out loud.

Sungmin darted his eyes away. Two seconds, as usual. “I don’t want to talk about it now,” was his reply.

“All right.” Byungyoon responded, tones almost too soft for his liking. His thumb brushed Sungmin’s forehead, easing the wrinkles he had caused.

Sungmin relaxed almost immediately. He knew, Byungyoon thought, he knew Byungyoon’s gestures. He knew that he conveyed his apology in each thumb stroke, he knew that Byungyoon would always listen, whenever he was ready. He knew that Byungyoon was trying to say that everything was going to be fine. He had to know.

“I want Rosa Diaz, please.” Sungmin said in a monotone.

“Who doesn’t?”

“You, because you like Charles Boyle.” Sungmin grinned at the screen, not expecting Byungyoon to see. Byungyoon saw anyway—he wasn’t focused to the show.

“Charles is a sweet person. He’d do anything for his friends,” Byungyoon sighed. “But Rosa can step on me anytime and I’ll thank her.”

“Me too, man.” Sungmin turned his head to him, smiling like a fool. “I’ll take you as the Charles Boyle to my Jake Peralta!” he declared.

“What—that doesn’t even—why should I be the Charles Boyle?” Byungyoon asked, and was at loss of words.

But really, he could do this every day and not get bored of it, he thought. He could make this his daily routine— on the sofa, Sungmin’s head on his lap, his fingers on Sungmin’s head, as they talked about the characters they were watching. Sungmin would complain endlessly and Byungyoon still would listen. He could live with this. He would never get bored of Sungmin.

“Because you’re the sappy one. And you’re obviously dumber than me, and you’d nail it as the pathos-ridden cop,” Sungmin still wasn’t breaking their eye contact. His eyes were gleaming and perfect.

“You don’t even make any sense.” Byungyoon snorted, and he decided to face the screen. Or else, who knew what he’s going to do? He was probably only an inch away to kill the distance between their faces and kiss the moron.

That couldn’t happen.

“And then I’ll find myself a Doug Judy, and you’ll be all broken hearted about it, and you’ll plot his demise. And then I’ll understand your jealousy immediately because unlike Jake, I’m not ignorant and oblivious of your feelings, and then I’ll tell you that Doug is nothing compared to Charles.” Sungmin still grinned, and he still stared at him.

Byungyoon was forced—by gravity—to stare at Sungmin, once again. “Now I see that you’re obviously Jake Peralta,” he mumbled, as his never stopping fingers pushed Sungmin’s head gently to face the screen.

“Jake Peralta what? You were mumbling!” Sungmin snapped his head back at his direction.

“Oh—there’s Rosa Diaz!” Byungyoon remarked, and Sungmin’s eyes instantly darted back to the screen. Byungyoon was relieved, and he made a mental note to not make the same slip ever again.

Byungyoon wasn’t really paying attention to whatever Rosa Diaz was doing, he was rather preoccupied with his thoughts, he was fantasising Sungmin’s reaction if he were to kiss him right there. He would probably be enraged as hell. He’d even go further to insult Byungyoon.

But what if…? Byungyoon was his best mate, anyway. Would he reject him blatantly, or worse—would he tell Byunyoon to forget about his feelings because Sungmin was uncomfortable with it, but he still wanted to be friends?

Sungmin’s laugh distracted him from his awful thoughts, and his eyes darted back and forth between Sungmin and the television screen.

He was tired, he couldn’t sleep. He was dreading to see Sungmin all day. He had been worried. He had been so fucking worried.

He yawned, and his mind drifted away.

* * *

_There was someone behind the large tree. He was humming something._

_What was his name, again? Songmin or something. Byungyoon stepped closer. His friends were telling him to talk to this kid, from the class next to his. They said this guy had written rap lyrics since forever. “You should really talk to him, Byungyoon. I’m sure you’ll click with him. He does the thing, the rap thing, like you, too.” Said Kyungmin, one of his friends._

_Maybe they just didn’t want to put up with him any longer, he laughed quietly._

_“Hi, Byungyoon—I know you’re there.” A voice startled him, as he stood in the opposite side of the tree. He gulped._

_Well, yeah. Hi,” Byungyoon stepped closer._

_“I’m Sungmin. People were starting to talk about us, you know, even Teacher Jang. They say we share the same interest,” Sungmin grinned. He was lying in the shade, Byungyoon realised._

_Great, an extrovert. He was glad that this Sungmin was talkative, because usually, he hadn’t the courage, or will, to make a conversation first. He sat down. “Well, we do, I suppose. But I’m clueless about rap.”_

_Sungmin was supposed to smile and say, “I know you suck, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things,” but instead he said: “Wake up, sunshine.”_

_What the fuck?_

_* * *_

“Byungyoon, you lazy sod—it’s eleven in the morning. Don’t you have any schedule?” Sungmin was saying, he sat beside Byungyoon’s stiff body in the sofa. His face was too close to Byungyoon’s. “Hi, handsome.” He grinned as Byungyoon blinked his eyes to focus.

“What the fuck—

“Byungyoon, you sinner!” Sungmin cried dramatically, then laughed. He got up and patted Byungyoon’s knee under the blanket. “Get up, you. If you don’t have any schedule, let’s go out. I’m hungry.”

Byungyoon hadn’t remembered a blanket in his body last night. He wasn’t supposed to sleep there too, he rolled his eyes at himself. This _accidentally-fell-asleep-on-his-sofa_ was nothing new, he thought, but he didn’t really want to spend too much time with Sungmin _now_. How could his brain process this quickly—his brain didn’t even think that it was weird to wake up with Sungmin’s face above his. He had gotten used to it. He had to stop.

“I don’t,” Byungyoon remarked. He stood up to see Sungmin in the kitchen, clutching a huge water bottle.

“What, you’re not hungry?” Sungmin frowned.

“To even think that you’re not Charles Boyle,” Byungyoon rolled his eyes, again. “No, you arsekettle; I mean that I don’t have any schedule today.”

Sungmin shrugged, grinning. Probably at the creative insult Byungyoon just threw at him. “Do you have spare clothes on your car?” he asked instead.

Byungyoon nodded absentmindedly, he always saved spare clothes in the back seat.

“I’ve placed a towel inside the bathroom. Go shower, I’ll fetch your clothes downstairs.” Sungmin said, as he took Byungyoon’s car keys from the kitchen table. He must had left it there. Sungmin took six long strides to the door, and with that, he disappeared from sight.

Byungyoon was terrified for a moment, of how easy this thing was. It was so fucking easy to get used with the whole deal of living together, or, well, knowing each other well enough so that they didn’t clash and would work in a perfect harmony.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Byungyoon decided that he was in fact, in need of a cold shower. He needed to cool himself down, and no, he wouldn’t think about Sungmin’s cinnamon scented soap and shampoo in the shower. He wouldn’t.

He definitely would. He was, in fact. Cinnamon was always Sungmin’s scent, even in high school. And now, his lungs were filled with the exotic scent and all he could think was how wonderful it’d be with Sungmin’s hair on his chin, his lips on Byungyoon’s neck, or the other way around, really—he didn’t mind.

He instead turned the shower to the coldest setting, stripped his clothes off, and stepped inside the cubicle. He scrubbed his body frantically.

_Good. Now I’m going to smell like him and I’ll be counting minutes until my brain decides to stop functioning._

After ten minutes or so, Sungmin knocked. “Byungyoon, are you done?”

Byungyoon opened the bathroom door, half drenched. He was just drying his hair outside the shower cubicle. “Thanks,” he said, as he received the bag full of his clothes with his right hand, left one busy holding the towel.

Sungmin smirked, and Byungyoon closed the door.

“Fuck.” He whispered, and he was really in love with his best friend. What did he do wrong, really, to deserve this?

He opened the canvas bag and he found a toothbrush, so he brushed his teeth as he dressed.

“Come on, Cinderella, I’m fucking starving!” Sungmin had shouted, and it seemed like he shouted on the gap between the door.

Byungyoon opened the door only to see that his guess was right. Sungmin was bending his body over and his face was so close to the door—he was so weird, yet lovable at the same time. He narrowed both of his eyes when those met Byungyoon’s. Byungyoon laughed, “I’m done. You’re not so patient, are you, _Anastasia._ ”

Sungmin stood straight in an instant, eyes even narrower. “How dare you—

And this time, Byungyoon was the one who snatched Sungmin’s arm and dragged him outside. “Come on, you.” He guffawed, still proud at his clapback.

As they stepped inside Byungyoon’s car, Sungmin turned his head to him. “Do I always smell this strong?” he asked.

“What?”

“I mean, you’re using my soap, right, and the scent is so strong in here—

“Yes, you always do.” Byungyoon shrugged as he started the engine, actively avoiding eye contacts. He was anxious of the question. Heavens, why did he ask? Of course he always did. There was a hint of cigarette in him before, but it was mainly cinnamon now.

Did Sungmin secretly knew that Byungyoon liked to smell him, his scent?

“God, wow.” Sungmin said, still enigmatic.

“What?” Byungyoon was repeating himself. He was being foolish but he couldn’t help it, really. “I mean, why are you asking anyway?”

“I always smell good!” Sungmin declared. He then giggled, like the thought of him smelling _extraordinary_ was so fascinating to him. Byungyoon nodded in a muted relief as he glanced at Sungmin beside him.

“You’re weird.” Byungyoon said. He focused his eyes to the street. “It’s not like I never used your soap and shampoo,”

Sungmin was silent for a moment, probably processing. He was slow like that if he hadn’t had breakfast. “Right. Right, why am I only noticing it now?” he muttered, most likely to himself. “Oh! Probably because we’re inside a car.”

Byungyoon shook his head. That didn’t even make any sense. “Or you’re secretly attracted to me,” he blurted, as he made a right turn. Why did he say it, again? Why was he hoping for Sungmin to say, _yes, I most definitely am_?

“If I am attracted to you, then you’re attracted to me too.” Sungmin chuckled, answering without missing a beat. He was so damn good at this.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Byungyoon frowned, eyes glued to the road. It was a rather busy day, but then again, the road was never quiet and empty, anyway. Plus, he didn’t want to see what expression Sungmin decided to wear.

“That’s exactly my point,” Sungmin said, sotto voce. He was probably smiling, the beautiful lopsided smile of his. Then, he elaborated: “Saying I’m secretly attracted to you is just like saying you have a massive crush on me, too.”

Well. That was not even true, a single bit.

Byungyoon wanted to argue, wanted to let his childishness take the better of him and speak his mind. He wanted to say that—well, if that was the logic—Sungmin would’ve had _a massive crush on him, too_. “All right, smartarse.” He said instead.

Sungmin laughed. He always seemed to be laughing with Byungyoon. “Anyway, where are you taking me?”

Byungyoon halted his movement for a moment. He wasn’t really paying attention to the road; his mind was rather preoccupied. He realised that he was taking the road to his home. “Well. I haven’t thought about that yet.” He looked at Sungmin’s direction for a moment. “Where do you want to eat?”

“I was just thinking,” Sungmin said hesitantly.

“What?” Byungyoon slowed down his car, waiting.

“Um…”

“Jesus. What is it.” Byungyoon fretted in a clipped voice. It didn’t even sound like a question. He didn’t mean to, really, but Sungmin was acting all weird. He wondered if he missed something.

“Ooh—let’s eat there! Quick, stop the car.” Sungmin pointed a small store on the other side of the road. “I didn’t know what I want to eat, but soup is always nice.” He added.

Byungyoon was sure, heavens be damned if he was wrong, that it wasn’t what Sungmin had actually wanted to say. But he knew that Sungmin knew, that if Sungmin didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push the topic. He was always like that, only wanting Sungmin to be comfortable. But this time, it felt different. It felt like he just missed something, he didn’t know what—a chance, maybe—or an answer, or a confirmation.

He still didn’t push the topic. “Right. I’m quite sure we can take a u-turn there,” he said, faintly pointing the road in front of him with his chin.

Sungmin nodded as Byungyoon glanced at him for a mere seconds before turning his eyes away, back to the road. Sungmin was staring intently past his window glass.

Byungyoon made a u turn, and slowed the car. He found a parking spot near the small restaurant. “Let’s go, then.” He nudged Sungmin, who gave him a small smile.

When they were inside, Sungmin was finally awaken to his senses. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. You sleep like a bear in hibernation.” He scoffed, dragging Byungyoon to a bright-pink coloured table near the door.

“I was… tired.” Byungyoon managed, because he couldn’t possibly tell the actual reason. He wouldn’t suddenly tell Sungmin that he couldn’t sleep the night before because he was worried that Sungmin had realised his _feelings_.

As they proceeded to order foods, Byungyoon observed, yet again, that Sungmin didn’t bring his cigarette. In fact, it was too long since the last time he saw Sungmin even hold a lighter.

Byungyoon had noticed this change after Sungmin got out of jail for his illegal marijuana use. He didn’t really think much of it, though, thinking that Sungmin probably needed a break, and he would be back with his bad habits again. But no, to Byungyoon’s surprise. Also, Sungmin didn’t drink as much as he used to. He even stopped, at some point. It was rather good, Byungyoon supposed.

When Sungmin’s manager, mum, and even his little sister had reached out to him—they were all frantic and perturbed, Ryu Haeun even cried as she told him that her brother was arrested by the police and was held until further investigation.

He didn’t know which was worse: the fact that his best friend could really go to jail, or the fact that he knew all along. He had tried to warn Sungmin, for fuck’s sake, not about the almighty or anything, but it could be damaging to his career. Sungmin didn’t care. “Weed isn’t that harmful as they depicted it, Byungyoon,” he said, as he took a long drag.

“I know. Be careful—

“I will. I will. Now, be a nice friend and fuck off, would you?” Sungmin cut in.

Byungyoon should’ve decided to stay. But he was tired, he had too much to think of, and he went home. He never mentioned it again, after that.

He remembered the feelings of shock and anger, and disappointment, even sadness, lurched into one and it felt suffocating. It hurt. It had been hard to breathe, but he needed to stay strong, he needed to steel himself because if he didn’t, what about Mrs. Ryu, what about Haeun? He had felt the prickling emotions in his eyes. He was holding himself up, mustering all the resoluteness in him to stop him from bloody crying.

After three heart-wrenching phone calls, with Haeun’s being the last, he just couldn’t.

He kneeled beside his bed, rosary tight in hand, as he muttered all the prayers he could gather in his chaotic mind. He tried to speak his thoughts, he tried to let god, or anyone who was listening, that Sungmin was not that bad. Sungmin could do better, of course, but _please, Jesus,_ stop hurting him. He had not prayed on his knees in a long time, but he felt the pang of familiarity. He was suddenly reminded of the younger Byungyoon; who had prayed like that every night. The younger Byungyoon, who was worried for his new friend, so he’d started including _Ryu Sungmin_ in his night prayers.

He felt both of his cheeks wet, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe his own tears. He was praying as though for dear life. He had realised that he couldn’t do anything other than pray. So he kneeled for too long that when he rose, he couldn’t even feel his own feet.

He remembered his first visit to Sungmin at Suwon Detention Centre; he hadn’t been able to say a single word. Sungmin was smiling, the idiot, because he always hid his feelings when he got hurt. He would act as if nothing happened at all.

On the contrary, Sungmin had made another controversy because he posted shits like, “I will release three albums, only if I don’t go to jail.” And “It’s a good thing I already finished my album.” On Instagram. People were criticizing him like there was no tomorrow. They said that he didn’t take matters seriously, that they weren’t excited for his new albums, and that they hoped Sungmin would rot in jail for smoking _weed_.

Little did they know that Sungmin did that as a way of protecting himself. He did take things seriously, he was feeling guilty, but people on the internet always spoke with no filters—and they were burning him alive with their words. They didn’t know what happened yet, or why it happened, but it didn’t matter; Sungmin was a selfish arsehole for them.

That was why Sungmin did it.

He was always like that since high school.

Byungyoon had silenced himself. He couldn’t say anything, still. He was just, there, regularly, if his schedule allowed him to do so. It was only right, really, because Sungmin was his best friend.

Even though Byungyoon was already madly in love with him. Byungyoon had already made peace with that fact.

The hair follicle test came out positive with marijuana, but no track of ecstasy was found. Sungmin had mentioned it in one of his interrogations, he had said that his dealer gave him a small amount for free. But no such thing found, though, and as Sungmin told him the final decision will be made in mid-August, he once again kneeled silently each night he couldn’t fall asleep.

Sungmin was only sentenced two years in probation, and hours of social services and rehabilitations, but he didn’t go to jail. Sungmin’s mum was beside him, when the court had read their final decision. She was a nice woman, and a great mother to her children. She rarely cried, and Sungmin loved her so much, even though he rarely showed it. Mrs. Ryu hugged him in relief, and he hugged her back.

They were two of a few people that actually loved Ryu Sungmin.

Sungmin probably knew, because he went down for them shortly after, and joined their hug. He was whispering apologies, to both of them.

Since then, Sungmin changed. In a good way, Byungyoon supposed. He shaved his hair bald, only to let it grow without the dreadlocks, and bleached his hair. He could also tie his hair now, which, if Byungyoon had to admit, was a supremely arousing sight. He was beautiful.

Sungmin had more tattoos, of course. But he also stopped smoking marijuana. Byungyoon had asked if Sungmin planned to do it again, and Sungmin shrugged. “It wasn’t worth it, I guess. So, no.”

The alcohol and cigarette came out once or twice a week. It was definitely an improvement.

* * *

“I was just thinking,” Sungmin mused. He was fiddling with the menu book in front of them, the old lady had left it in case they need anything more.

“What?” Byungyoon raised both of his eyebrows. He wondered if Sungmin was bringing the not-so forgotten topic minutes ago, inside his car. But he had looked so unsure about it, and this time, Sungmin didn’t even fidget.

Sungmin stared back at him, the corner of his lips twitching. His eyes gleamed as if he was thinking something really amusing. “The first time you decided to swear on a regular basis,” he snorted softly, breaking into a smile.

“Yeah. Are you going to tease me about it again, like four years ago?” Byungyoon tried to look as annoyed as possible, but judging by the huge grin in Sungmin’s stupid face, it didn’t work.

“No! I mean, it was a delight to see you finally realising one good thing in life. And I teased you only because you’d swear some more and honestly, it was me trying to get used to it.” Sungmin went on. He laughed, too.

Byungyoon joined his sudden outburst of laugh, and they couldn’t seem to stop laughing. It was nothing, but he remembered that they were always goofy like this. They would laugh at anything insignificant until they were out of breath, and seeing each other’s face, they’d laugh again.

Byungyoon tried to supress his laughter unsuccessfully, glaring at Sungmin. People were starting to look at them out of curiosity and a tad of annoyance. Sungmin laughed some more, and Byungyoon was just helplessly cackling again and again.

“Shit,” Byungyoon managed, and he finally could control his laughter after four minutes or so. “I mean, I was stupid, really—how could people just, not—swear? What if they tripped something—what the fuck did I say when I tripped on something?”

“You don’t trip, you bump into things. Your head, specifically,” Sungmin was saying, out of breath. His face flushed, looking healthy as ever.

“Well. It’s hard to be tall,” Byungyoon nodded solemnly. “But really, do you remember what I used to say if I bumped into things?”

“It’s hard for you to not be such a prick about your gigantic body.” Sungmin muttered darkly.

“I’m not gigantic—Seo Janghoon is.” Byungyoon teased. “And you’re, what, a hundred and fifty?”

“I hate you so fucking much. It’s a hundred and sixty-eight!” Sungmin blurted. He frowned at Byungyoon, that made the latter one chuckled.

“I know, and I’m a hundred and eighty-two.” Byungyoon smirked. He didn’t forget Sungmin’s height—the first time they measured their heights together for their official profile was the official day of Sungmin’s Endless Suffering. Byungyoon, along with some other friends, kept teasing him. Sungmin was the shortest person in their group.

Not that Byungyoon was complaining. It was… cute. And he remembered that every time Sungmin wanted to touch his head, or any part of his face—or kiss his forehead, that one time—he had to tiptoe. Or forcefully pulled Byungyoon’s head to bend lower. Byungyoon wanted to haul Sungmin’s body instead, slam him against the wall or something.

“Desist, will you?” Sungmin was still glaring at him.

“And what, leave you alone? There’s no way you can survive,” Byungyoon raised one of his brows. He was half joking, of course. If Sungmin were given some drug that would make him say the truth, he’d probably admit it too.

Because that would also be the case for Byungyoon.

Sungmin lost his feigned malice, and chuckled. He then thanked the lady who brought their food. “Thank you,” he said, with a smile. Though his eyes couldn’t really leave the foods in front of him.

“Eat well, both of you!” She returned Sungmin’s smile as she patted his back lightly.

Byungyoon nodded to her direction. “We’ll enjoy the food.”

They started eating, and Byungyoon felt like he was at his happiest—even when Sungmin took his food to annoy him on purpose, and he had to pretend that he was annoyed, but no, really—he was happy. He was happy with Sungmin. With their friendships. With what he had now.

It was enough.

* * *

It was never enough, goddammit. It would never be enough.

He felt hollow inside after he went home—they had eaten together, Byungyoon drove Sungmin home, and Sungmin invited him to stay like he always did, but Byungyoon would politely, if not jokingly, refuse. He had to go home, he said, or things would go out of sort.

“What things?” Sungmin had asked, and Byungyoon could only smile and thought, _please don’t make it harder for me_ , and he would pat Sungmin’s head and bid his good bye.

Here he was, inside his car that he got from winning Show Me The Money 5—Sungmin had said months ago that he should buy a new one. But this car had too much memories, plus he didn’t even feel like he needed a new car.

Here he was, in his building’s basement, and he didn’t want to leave. His car had Sungmin’s scent everywhere, and it was too comforting. So he sat there for a while.

His mind raced through the memory of him arriving to Incheon from his North American tour. He went straight to Sungmin’s flat from the airport, just because his flat was closer to the airport than Byungyoon’s. But it was mainly because Byungyoon needed to see him.

Sungmin had called when Byungyoon was in Houston, saying that he intended to fully stop drinking. It was a perfect excuse for Byungyoon. Not that Sungmin found it weird—Byungyoon practically lived there after going on tiring schedules that required flying in an aeroplane—but it was just perfect. Sungmin knew his flat was closer to Incheon International Airport, and Byungyoon said he wanted to check whether Sungmin really had stopped drinking.

He did. It was baffling.

Sungmin couldn’t even join him on tour because he was on probation. He couldn’t leave the country, but Seunghyun was with him throughout the concerts, though, _for fun_ , he said, and Seunghyun spent a lot of his time kissing random blokes he met.

Not that Byungyoon was complaining, but he was irritated. He realised that he could never do that—having one-night stands, kissing random blokes _for fun_ kind of things—his mind was rather preoccupied with Sungmin. He couldn’t just… snog another person to just get the whole gay thing out from his system. He’d feel terrible and sorry for the man he was supposed to be with, for Sungmin, and for himself. He just couldn’t.

That was probably why, when he had gotten inside Sungmin’s, he dropped his belongings on the floor. There Sungmin stood, eyes glinting under the warm hue above them. “Hey, berk. Miss me?” Sungmin said; and with that, Byungyoon’s forehead went straight to Sungmin’s left shoulder without thinking further. It was wondrous. “Concerts are so fucking tiring, god.” He complained half-heartedly.

Surely he needn’t to worry about Sungmin’s reaction, it was normal for them. It was too damn normal until Byungyoon didn’t know where Sungmin or him would cross the line.

Sungmin wasn’t even surprised. He smacked Byungyoon’s shoulder, scolding, “Then don’t do it you bastard. Just stay here, do nothing and you’ll rot.”

Byungyoon pulled away reluctantly, thinking that everything was worth it; though at the same time, everything was worthless when it came to this. Being away for two months was just ridiculous. He felt like he needed this to live—he needed to come home and see Sungmin every time. He wanted this. He wanted to come home and to feel that he wasn’t alone, someone—Sungmin, was there, to welcome him. It was brilliantly asinine.

But it was lovely nonetheless, to imagine.

“I’m jetlagged. I need sleep.” He said, and Sungmin grinned.

“Sure you are.”

* * *

His phone rang, making his head bump with the seat behind him. “Shit.” He muttered, as he reached for his mobile blindly somewhere inside his bag.

It was Choi Wonjae.

_“Byungyoon, hi—where are you?”_

“I’m home, why?” Byungyoon asked. He just met him three days ago, why did he sound like he was in a hurry?

 _“You’re home?"_ Wonjae echoed. He wasn’t even answering Byungyoon’s question, yet he threw another one back.

“Yes, I’m home. Why—

 _“You’re ho—I can’t believe you—look. I know you’re lying, cut it off. Where the fuck are you?”_ Wonjae snapped.

Technically, Byungyoon wasn’t lying. He was just at the parking lot, instead of _sorting things out_ inside his flat. “I wasn’t lying, you idiot.” He managed to say.

_“I’m fucking outside your door, the security even said you weren’t home from yesterday. Unless you can fucking teleport, I can’t see how you’ve managed to disappear and brazenly claimed you were home.”_

Choi Wonjae became his good friend through Sungmin too, in some ways. Of course, they did become producers on the rap survival show, but Sungmin was their… common ground. At first. Wonjae was close to Sungmin, Sungmin was his best friend. And Wonjae was also the same age as Sungmin and him.

Byungyoon pulled his car key and started walking in a fast pace. “All right, all right. I was at Sungmin’s until this morning, and I got home—like, twenty minutes ago but I’m still in the basement.” He started explaining as he waited the lift door to open.

 _“Whatever. See you in two minutes.”_ Wonjae huffed in annoyance, and with that, he hung up.

Byungyoon blinked rapidly, his brain trying to process Wonjae, the floor his flat was at, and the sodding lift that seemed to slow down when Byungyoon was in a hurry.

As he stepped outside the moving box, Wonjae was glaring at him.

“I’m not lying, Wonjae.” Byungyoon said defensively. He approached the particularly grumpy guy with a—almost normal looking clothes…?

Wonjae shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.” He said instead, and urged Byungyoon to open the door.

“What happened to you, anyway?” Byungyoon asked, because yes, it wasn’t normal for Wonjae to go out with his _recording_ clothes. There wasn’t any jewellery in his hands, he wasn’t even wearing anything beside his shabby white t-shirt and beige shorts.

“I think I’m burnt out.” Wonjae tapped his feet in a constant, rapid beat. He was wearing a hotel slipper. A fucking hotel slipper.

“Yeah, you definitely are.” Byungyoon said after scanning his _mundane_ slipper. He swung the door open and let Wonjae in first; and then himself, and closed the door.

Wonjae flopped his body to the nearest sofa, throwing his phone on the soft carpet, and placed both of his palms on his face. “Byungyoon. Water.”

Byungyoon sighed. “I’m only doing this because you literally look like shit.” He then went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from his fridge.

“I’m fucking burnt out. Fuck. How could people work on their albums like there’s no tomorrow?” Wonjae accepted the bottle and emptied it in mere seconds. “Thanks,”

“Everyone wonders about that every time they’re working on their new album,” Byungyoon nodded as he lied vertically on top of the other sofa. He felt that too, and it was so goddamn stressful, but the end result for The Movie Star was satisfying enough. “You’re almost done, though. Right?”

“Mm-hm,” Wonjae agreed. “I can’t seem to finish my last track but who cares, anyway.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Byungyoon was still staring at the ceiling above him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I bet you can’t.” Wonjae huffed a laugh, still muffled by his hands. “But I appreciate the thoughts,”

Byungyoon sat up abruptly. “Why?”

Wonjae copied his movement and a pair of tired eyes bore into Byungyoon. “Have you actually written love songs?” He asked earnestly. His hands were placed on his kneecaps.

Byungyoon didn’t even say anything.

Wonjae smirked. “See?” and he throw his head back onto the sofa. “I never actually hear stories of you liking someone. That’s pretty weird.”

“Hey! Transcend is a love song,” Byungyoon defended himself albeit poorly. Wonjae was always like this; he liked to torment others when he was feeling frustrated.

“Of fucking course. Ha.” Wonjae straighten his body, still sticking his head to the sofa. “Once you wrote a somehow similar to what people would call ‘lyrics about love’, it’s vague enough so people could have their own interpretations. I saw a popular thread debating whether it’s about your relationship with a girl or with your divine god.” He shook his head, almost mocking. Byungyoon wanted to pull his faded-caramel locks, but decided not to.

What Wonjae said was right, every bit of it. If anything, Sungmin’s verse in Transcend showed more about who he wrote the lyrics for, specifically. Even now, Byungyoon was quite sure that Hyera never really left Sungmin’s mind.

“Fine. You do you,” Byungyoon retorted in an irritated tone. He was suddenly more annoyed to the fact that Sungmin wrote an entire verse about his past lover rather than how Wonjae accused him of being a somehow lacking rapper.

Because, of course he was lacking. He didn’t even love anyone before Ryu Straight Sungmin. He even had to make up a story about the girl from his church when people in the variety show industry started attacking him with love-life questions.

His mum was tirelessly asking him to bring the girl home for two weeks straight after the show aired. His dad was more sceptical; since everybody knew everybody in their church and Byungyoon didn’t even spare a glance to the young women there. Byungyoon had no choice but to lie, he explained, to his mum’s visible disappointment. “Or else they’d dig more and I can’t live in peace.”

Ryu Sungmin didn’t even bother to ask Byungyoon why he had never told Sungmin about the girl he was supposed to be in love with. He just sent a video of him laughing hysterically and while Byungyoon was confused, Sungmin flipped the camera so it was facing the telly screen—it was Byungyoon’s face. On pause. With “Love at First Sight” written as the caption. And then, two subsequent texts popped up.

_Fool Sungmin: it’s sad that you’re lying for a living lmao_

_Fool Sungmin: all for decent meals and nice clothes, right? HAHAHAHAHAH_

Byungyoon remembered that he had sent a voice message because he was too lazy to type. He said, “If you’re sad for your friend then you shouldn’t be laughing like a maniac.” And he made it sound like he was annoyed, but he was grinning the whole time. Sungmin knew him better than anyone.

Bloody Ryu Sungmin.

“I don’t know if you’re uncomfortable with me or anything, but I’m not judgemental.” Wonjae muttered suddenly. He sat up straight, looking solemn. “Well, I hope I’m not.”

Byungyoon jolted, eyes widened. What a good self-control, he mentally slapped himself. He forced himself to check Wonjae’s expression, which made him wince internally in a pure horror.

“I fucking knew it.” Wonjae stood up.

Byungyoon felt his heart banging in a rapid pace. “What?” he asked in disbelief.

“Spit it out, Byungyoon.” Wonjae gritted his teeth. He looked extremely annoyed and so fucking threatening, and Byungyoon couldn’t even try to think clearly. Why in all of a sudden people knew everything?

“What the hell, Choi Wonjae.” Byungyoon managed hopelessly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Wonjae to know, but nobody did, anyway—he was afraid of how they would react. He was afraid to lose the people he thought had loved him.

A startled expression stuck in his voice for a few seconds before he sat again, looking troubled. “Fuck. Sorry.” Wonjae subdued. “No pressure, Byungyoon—I’m just so fucking tired. Sorry.” He explained.

“Wonjae—

“We could pretend this never happened. If you want,” Wonjae stared at him, looking unsure when he said the last part.

Byungyoon stared right back. Wonjae might seem shy but he was not the type to avoid eye contacts, like him. Byungyoon could see sincerity in those tired eyes, and he suddenly had a strong urge to burst.

Into bubbles. If that was possible.

Seeing how Byungyoon didn’t really come up with a reply but instead staring right back, with a pair of hopeful eyes, probably—because Wonjae took a deep breath, “I don’t know what you’re going through, but it’ll pass, eventually. You can’t fool me, Byungyoon.

“It’s hard, isn’t it, you look so fucking vulnerable a moment ago and I thought to myself, ‘no, I’m going to fuck this up and like my other friendships it’ll end if I didn’t stop pestering him.’ but—I can help you—well, I feel like I can.”

Byungyoon decided to drop his gaze, paying a meticulous attention to the carpet. For god’s sake he could feel the uneven rhythm of his heart, almost like breaking his ribcage. Persistently. A reminder that he existed, that he eventually had to deal with his whole—being gay _thing._ He didn’t really know how to respond, but Wonjae wasn’t done anyway.

“You can stop pretending like everything is all right, Byungyoon. I always assumed that you lived an unburdened life since you have Ryu Sungmin, someone you can fucking depend on, which I envied so much about you two—but that’s not the point—he doesn’t even know. Does he?” Wonjae stood up, properly, and grabbed his empty cup.

He walked into the hall and disappeared to the kitchen. There was a clanking sound with a muffled “shit.” and the calming sound of water being poured in. Byungyoon shook his head, raking his hair. He pulled a little too hard because he felt a pang of pain on his scalp, and he let go.

Wonjae wasn’t judgemental.

But would he still want to be friends with someone who was sodding gay?

Would he understand that Byungyoon didn’t want to be born like this either, that Byungyoon couldn’t choose who he’ll fall in love with, that he didn’t want to be called a _disgusting sinner that will rot in hell_ , but also that Byungyoon really loved Ryu Sungmin until he felt like he was ready to kneel, to be punished, yet he knew for sure that he wouldn’t regret loving his own best friend? Would he understand that Byungyoon was living in fear for people could, and might expose him—blackmail him, even hate him for something he didn’t have the control for?

His head was spinning.

There was a soft thud and with that, Byungyoon confirmed that Wonjae was back on the sofa. Byungyoon was still staring down; but he was so nervous that his five senses jolted with a slight movement and sound.

The glass clanked with his coffee table in an almost faint manner. Wonjae was being careful.

 _Shit, shitshitshitshitshit,_ Byungyoon thought _. Whatever. Everyone could go fuck themselves_. If this was going to be the end of everything, so be it.

“Wonjae,” Byungyoon managed. He wanted to continue but he didn’t even know he was trembling this bad—even his voice sounded shaky. He clasped his hands almost like he was praying, but he was not.

The glass Wonjae had just put in his coffee table contained a dark liquid, which smelt suspiciously like coffee and chocolate. The steam floats as the fear inside him felt even more palpable. “Wonjae.” He tried once more, yet his voice was shakier.

_Just end this quick, Lee Byungyoon._

“Byungyoon, it’s okay. Will it help if I sit next to you?” Wonjae cooed. His voice was too goddamn gentle, and it was killing Byungyoon.

Byungyoon shivered at the idea. “Nope. I think I’m going to—just, stay there.”

“All right.”

“It’s—it’s not going to—” Byungyoon clasped his palms harder. It was starting to hurt. “—pass.”

He glanced at Wonjae. Wonjae frowned as he rolled his eyes clockwise and blinked every time he changed directions. “What?” Wonjae had asked.

“You said to me earlier—that it’s all going to pass. It’s not.” Byungyoon shut his eyes, the tremble in his voice wasn’t near gone.

“Okay,” Wonjae only said. He was prompting Byungyoon to explain further.

Byungyoon was so fucked. _Fuckfuckfuckfuck_ he wanted to cry and lock himself inside his own bedroom and never go out.

Byungyoon never knew coming out was this hard. Seunghyun did it like it was no big deal, and he even personally talked to Byungyoon because he missed Seunghyun’s first _declaration._ Seunghyun was laughing all the time. He looked like he was on top of the world, just letting go the burdens he had inside him.

Byungyoon didn’t feel the same. His stomach roiled, not in the way it roiled when he was hugging Sungmin—it wasn’t very pleasant. It almost felt like he saw someone holding a gun and clearly shot him, but it was all happening in slow motion and he couldn’t do anything about it. He only could wait for the bullet to penetrate his body and send him to hell. He wanted to cry but there were no tears. He was frightened.

Byungyoon opened his eyes slowly. “You’re going to hate me.” he whispered.

“I’m not going to hate you, Lee Byungyoon.” Wonjae was frowning again.

“It won’t pass, it won’t go away, because—I’m… gay.”

There was a shocking amount of silence that Byungyoon thought he was only imagining things. Wonjae was probably not at his house, and he was hallucinating. He had finally gone insane.

“You’re gay?” came a reply from a harsh voice.

Yes, this was what Byungyoon expecting. He nodded hopelessly, still too afraid to face Wonjae. “I’m sorry.”

“Wha—Byungyoon, look at me.”

Byungyoon looked, and he swore to god that he couldn’t tell what Wonjae was thinking.

“Why are you apologising?” Wonjae bit his lower lip. “Why the fuck are you apologising for this?”

“Because it’s _wrong._ Because I still want to be friends with you, because I don’t want me to disgust you. Because—

“You stupid arsehole.” Wonjae blurted, somehow in an angry tone. “You fucking, utter, stupid arsehole.”

“I’m going to hug you now, you don’t get to fucking protest.” And with three huge steps, Wonjae perched beside Byungyoon which caught him off-guard, and hugged him tightly.

Too tight, he wanted to say, but he was confused. He didn’t expect this to happen at all—and he wasn’t sure to hug Wonjae back so his hands were hanging loosely behind Wonjae’s body.

“I thought you had a fucking stage four of prostate cancer or something, you motherfucking idiot—I thought you were dying and all you had to say is that you’re gay?” Wonjae hissed, hug getting even tighter. “What the fuck are you apologising for you stupid bastard—there’s nothing wrong being gay!” Came again his muffled voice, possibly because he buried his face in Byungyoon’s shoulder.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Wonjae didn’t hate him.

Byungyoon felt the prickling in his eyes, and he didn’t realise it was tears until it fell down and grazed his cheeks. The waves of relief came like a tsunami, and he shuddered. He held Wonjae’s back for what felt like a lifetime, he finally cried.

He felt like he could float. He felt the heaviness lifted, as he grasped the fact that he just let somebody know something that he kept alone for three fucking years.

“Now you’re crying. What the hell is wrong with you—er, nothing, I suppose—but still. What the fuck, Byungyoon? You’re a fucking normal person, why should I be disgusted?” Wonjae was still swearing at him. He didn’t let go, though, and he ran his palm gently through Byungyoon’s back in a loop.

Byungyoon choked when he thought of replying, so he shook his head weakly instead.

“Jesus fucking Christ and I don’t even believe in god,” Wonjae muttered. “Look, Byungyoon, I’ve got so much to say but none of that will tell you what’s wrong because there wasn’t anything wrong to begin with. Do you understand me? You’re not the only gay person in this planet, for fuck’s sake. Just because you thought you were alone, doesn’t mean you really are.”

The words hit Byungyoon hard. He thought he was all alone, he genuinely believed that nobody would accept him for what he truly was.

Byungyoon let out a harsh laugh. “I knew swearing at people gives you clarity and reduces your stress. It’s the only time I’m giving you the chance to,”

Byungyoon never really showed his weakness in front of anyone. He was the nurturing role, almost always; he was the one people went to when they had problems and needed to vent. It was kind of awkward—crying while holding Wonjae’s shirt because he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“Give yourself a break, Byungyoon.” Wonjae was still patting his back. As if he read Byungyoon’s mind. So Byungyoon did. He held on firmer.

Wonjae probably did read his mind. His other hand pressed Byungyoon’s neck, almost to hold him still. “It’s tiring, isn’t it? Keeping a bloody secret all alone. But not anymore, though. You have me.”

“Thank you.”

“For what, having a basic human decency? For saying you’re an utter bollocks?” Wonjae retorted. He didn’t say Byungyoon was an utter bollocks before, so it was another insult he wanted to say to Byungyoon.

Byungyoon laughed meekly. He was fully aware that Wonjae’s shirt was soaked. In his tears, his brain added unhelpfully.

Strangely enough, he couldn’t manage to care.

He was safe, Wonjae didn’t hate him. Wonjae swore at him often; but this time, it felt so fucking refreshing. He had someone. He had a friend.

Deep down he knew, Sungmin would probably be similar to Wonjae. He contemplated about telling Sungmin for about a thousand times already—if only Byungyoon wasn’t attracted to him at the same time. He didn’t want to slip up and ruin everything, so he kept his mouth shut. What else could he do, anyway?

“How long have you known?” Wonjae asked.

“Almost four years.” Byungyoon finally managed after calming down. God, he probably looked ugly right now, all puffy and sad and tear-smeared.

“Do you want to tell me about it? I mean—whatever, but if that made you feel more content. I’m all ears.” As Wonjae finished suggesting, Byungyoon had made up his mind. He pulled himself from the warm embrace, and smiled sheepishly at Wonjae. It was still rather humiliating.

But it was fine, he assured himself—Wonjae deserved to know. Byungyoon deserved to let the burden off his chest, he deserved it. Wonjae wouldn’t hate him.

He deserved it.

“Byungyoon,”

“Yeah? Oh. Well, I… I didn’t really know I was gay. I thought I was aromantic asexual.” Byungyoon explained. “Until Seunghyun’s party, when he came out as gay.”

“What, so you had, daring sexual escapades with him? That’s how you know—

“Fuck, stop.” Byungyoon grimaced, slapping the inevitable mental images of his _daring sexual escapades_ with Cheon Seunghyun. “What in the name of god—no, that’s not—seriously, Choi Wonjae?”

Wonjae grimaced alongside with him, “Well, you never know.”

“Ugh.” Byungyoon groaned. “Not him. We are close, but I just can’t imagine myself—anyway, he made it clear that he wasn’t interested in me because apparently _, I’m too straight for his liking_.” Byungyoon made an air quote with his fingers.

Seunghyun did say that. He also thought Byungyoon wasn’t living his best life. “What’s so fun about being hetero?” Seunghyun had said once or twice, mock-laughing Byungyoon. If only he knew.

“I’m glad, to be bloody honest. It’d be terrifying to realise that you’re gay by liking that complicated nuisance.” Wonjae muttered. He rested his body onto the sofa, dragging Byungyoon along with him.

Seunghyun was, in fact, complicated. And sassy. Unapologetic. And brave. Didn’t give a single fuck. Byungyoon scoffed. “Really? I recall you were so eager to get close to him, bugging me all week.”

“Well, I regret that. I can’t handle him,” Wonjae squinted, but Byungyoon knew he was fond of Seunghyun anyway. Everyone did.

“Anyway, you’re being glad too soon. It was Sungmin,” Byungyoon stated as a matter-of-factly, and he could pinpoint the exact second Wonjae’s pupils dilated, his mouth forming a perfect round shape. “That’s why he doesn’t know a thing about this.”

Byungyoon had wondered how Wonjae would react. He wasn’t really expecting Wonjae to be so open about the whole gay thing, and he was damn sure he’d lost a precious friend. But then he came out, nothing bad happened, even though Wonjae swore at him a lot more than he usually did.

He was grateful and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he did thank god for Wonjae accepting who he was. His unconscious had muttered thousands of prayers, had tried to talk too often with the end result of no answer, but this time—he didn’t really want to thank his god. _I should be ashamed_ , he thought, but he thanked him anyway.

God probably didn’t hate him.

“Sungmin… Ryu Sungmin?” Wonjae’s eyebrows furrowed. He even looked confused for a moment. “Ryu bloody Sungmin, your sodding best-friend-since-high-school Ryu Sungmin?”

Byungyoon nodded. “That Ryu Sungmin. The One and Only, Straight as Hell, Ryu sodding Sungmin.” And he grinned, as if it didn’t matter.

Wonjae wasn’t fooled, still. “What the actual hell.” He then ruffled his own hair.

“As a matter of fact, he was the one who was flirting with Seunghyun. I was confused, god, so I went to the bathroom. At that time I felt like simultaneously throwing up and punching someone, actually.” Byungyoon sighed.

“Now it’s a _straight_ and complicated nuisance. I always knew you’re not ordinary like that.” Wonjae chuckled darkly. “So you realised that you liked him—because you were jealous.”

Byungyoon raised his eyebrows in agreement. “The insufferable prick.”

“Shit, Byungyoon.” Wonjae patted his shoulder. “It’s probably easier if your gay awakening was just because of Seunghyun. Or me.” He laughed, like the idea delighted him so much.

Byungyoon snorted, audibly enough for Wonjae to hear. If he had liked Wonjae instead, and Wonjae knew, he’d be teased with no end. Choi Wonjae and his narcissistic arse would probably made lyrics about them.

“What? I probably could swing both ways if your feelings for me are significant enough.” Wonjae smirked.

“I’m sure that’s not how things work, wanker.”

Wonjae shrugged in response. “So, what, you’re not going to tell him? And because I know you so fucking well—you won’t move on, and you’ll be remembered as the forever bachelor rapper when you’re gone?”

Byungyoon frowned at the idea. “I bloody hope not.”

“Right. But I can’t tell Sungmin about this and end your misery, am I right?”

Byungyoon sat up straight and shook his head furiously. Before he started swearing though, Wonjae pulled him right back and his head landed smoothly to the back of the sofa with a thud. “You can’t say anything to him, okay? I’ll handle it myself. Don’t even try or I’ll drown you in holy water.”

“Sounds tempting.” Wonjae mused, which wasn’t the response Byungyoon was hoping.

“Seriously, Wonjae. He _can’t_ know. Not now.” Byungyoon stressed.

Wonjae nodded like he wasn’t even listening to Byungyoon, but he muttered: “All right, all right. It’s not my business anyway. I’m just, well, I’m always going to listen if you want to talk.”

Byungyoon nodded with him.

“I can still ask though, right?” Wonjae prompted. Without waiting an answer, he continued. “Was it hard? I mean, with Sungmin being all touchy and stuffs.”

“What stuffs?”

Wonjae made a face at him. “I’m not dumb, you know. Sungmin is practically a koala and you’re his eucalyptus tree.”

“That’s bloody awful comparison. Don’t koalas eat the leaves?” Byungyoon argued.

“They live _on_ the tree, Byungyoon. And you’re missing my point. Sungmin treats you like you’re his… well, only friend. To depend on.” Wonjae said, visibly irritated by Byungyoon’s childishness.

“Well.” Byungyoon coughed. “I thought I could live with it.”

“And now you can’t?” Wonjae asked, and Byungyoon turned his head away from him.

“It’s so fucking weird for us to talk about feelings.” Byungyoon said instead. He did consider to just go with it. Wonjae might as well knew everything. “But yeah, I’m sort of… losing it. Can’t even see him in the eyes properly the other day.”

“That’s precisely why we have to talk about _your_ feelings.” Wonjae muttered. “Shit, you’re really fucked. You are. What the actual fuck. I can’t even believe Lee fucking Byungyoon is fucking in love and I’m witnessing it real time.”

Byungyoon rolled his eyes. “The more I tried to forget, the stronger it gets.” He sighed. “Things were kind of awkward for the past week. He was aghast by the never-ending rumours about us; I was rather terrified that he’d know and I’d lose him, but eventually things turned out fine.”

“Man.” Wonjae offered. “You aren’t as invisible as you thought, aren’t you? To the public, I mean. For us, it didn’t even mean anything to see you and Sungmin being chummy as ever.”

“I know. People are scary sometimes.”

Wonjae sat there for what felt like hours, talking. About Byungyoon and his unfortunate love life, mainly. There was a lot of teasing, shoulder patting, and even side-hugs. He probably thought Byungyoon was so damn miserable.

Wonjae also wondered why hadn’t they release another collaboration after their first one. Byungyoon told him that it’d be hard, producing a song that would work well for both of vocal together, with their current style. Or precisely, Wonjae’s current style. Once he found the right chance, though, he’d ask Wonjae of course.

“I envy Ryu Sungmin!” Wonjae laughed, and Byungyoon laughed too. Sungmin’s name was mentioned more than his name and Wonjae’s combined. Byungyoon wasn’t expecting this turn of events, but he was delighted, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I have to admit; I made this fic too close to their reality and I made the girl he mentioned on the TV show Radio Star (yes, it did happen, you can find the clip on youtube) non-existent. Look what he's done now, he's marrying THAT girl. Wow. I have no words. Anyways, wishing you a happy marriage, Bewhy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can anyone tell me where cjamm is? i miss him. or rather, tell him that i miss him, please. i know he's doing quite well these days but we haven't get any update since OCTOBER. god.

> _"I bet you could sometimes find all the mysteries of the universe in someone's hand."_
> 
> — Benjamin Alire Sáenz
> 
> * * *

Byungyoon imagined his coming out to his parents more than he could count, almost every single one of them ended up miserably.

He should say something to them eventually, he knew. The problem was: _how_.

His mum had just rung. She missed her precious little boy; Dad also said hi. She was wondering if he could visit. Incheon wasn’t that far from Seoul, she added. He would visit them, obviously, “and stop calling me your little boy, mum; I’m twenty-seven.” Then she brushed it off, as if Byungyoon was talking nonsense. When are you going to bring a _girlfriend_ home, she asked instead. Even his older brother already introduced his girlfriend to the family. She wanted to have _many_ grandchildren, by the way.

Byungyoon was getting tired of this, so he answered rather truthfully: he didn’t want a girlfriend. He was busy with his rather new company; and soon enough, he’d be gone for military enlistment. Girlfriend was not a bloody option. _And never will be_ , he amended silently. He didn’t say that out loud. His mum sighed in defeat. She told him to mind his language, which made him sigh, too, and apologised. That happened, he noted, but that wouldn’t stop her pestering him again tomorrow though, and the days after.

“Mum—I’ll visit you next week. I’ve got to go now, I love you.” He said, and ended the call while his mum was starting to complain that she was too old for this, and she wanted a grandchild because her two sons were too busy to even visit her regularly.

Byungyoon rubbed his tired eyes, covering them away from the monitor in front of him. It had been precisely fourteen days after the whole mess with Choi Wonjae. Wonjae made efforts to check up on him regularly, by calls or even visiting him. Byungyoon had told him to do as he usually did, Wonjae didn’t have to pop up almost every day. He was fine. Wonjae insisted, and Byungyoon had to admit that he enjoyed Wonjae’s presence.

Everything with Sungmin was back to normal too. Sungmin was always sending him random messages, even in the middle of the night. Or precisely, half to five in the morning. It wasn’t strange, instead, it was comforting somehow. Byungyoon mostly guessed that Sungmin was lonely (bingo, give the lad a prize) and Byungyoon was the only one who could bear Sungmin’s childlike personality.

It was quarter past eleven, Sungmin hadn’t sent him anything. Byungyoon frowned. Well, a change was quite nice, he supposed. It was still unsettling, though, so Byungyoon composed a short message consisting two words: _you okay?_ And waited for Sungmin’s reply.

It came after five minutes of waiting. Not that he counted the minutes or glancing at the digital clock on his side every fifteen seconds or so. He opened it almost immediately.

_Fool Sungmin: I need a drink_

And with that, Byungyoon pressed the call button on his right side of the screen.

_“Byungyoon,”_

“What’s wrong?” Byungyoon asked, not even trying to conceal his worry. “You’ve stopped drinking since January,”

 _“Once at a time won’t hurt anyone.”_ Came Sungmin’s reply.

“Where are you?”

_“Apparently I’m always home these days.”_

Byungyoon smiled reluctantly. “All right. Be there in twenty.” And this was the second time he ended a call today. He rushed outside, pocketing his car keys and his mobile phone.

“Twenty fucking minutes, I said. May god help us all.” He whispered to himself. It usually took half an hour to Sungmin’s place from his studio. Sometimes even a forty minutes’ drive when the traffic’s shitty. Based on how worried he was about Sungmin, being there in twenty minutes showed that he was, in fact, very worried.

* * *

_7-0-8-0-9-3._

Strange, Byungyoon thought. It seemed like the six digits combination didn’t bear any significant meaning for Sungmin. It was quite out-of-character. Sungmin was a careless git, he wouldn’t remember this combination for sure if it hadn’t held a special meaning for him. But Sungmin told him that it was randomly generated from his phone and he just went with it.

Byungyoon hopped up the stairs, two at a time. You could never trust a lift when in a hurry.

“You’re fast,” Sungmin gave him a lopsided smile. Byungyoon swung the door close.

Sungmin was sitting on the sofa, his right hand holding a green bottle. He looked like he hadn’t slept comfortably for a week, but Byungyoon knew it was only him exaggerating things. “I didn’t know you still have this many.” Byungyoon glanced over the ten-or-so bottles on the table. He sat in between the space of Sungmin’s sofa and his coffee table, and Sungmin slid down next to him.

“I just bought those,” Sungmin pointed at the soju. His eyes were bloodshot. Two of the bottles were already empty, and there wasn’t any shot glass in sight.

“You shouldn’t have drink directly from the bottle,” Byungyoon snorted.

“You shouldn’t look after me all the fucking time. I’m a responsible adult,” Sungmin snapped all of a sudden.

“Hey.” Byungyoon nudged him quietly. He positioned himself to face Sungmin.

Sungmin didn’t turn his body except his head; and stared at Byungyoon for a moment, expressions unreadable.

“Is everything all right?” Byungyoon asked. “You aren’t even that drunk, come on.” He said, as an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What do you think,” Sungmin mumbled. It didn’t even sound like a question, and what was he expecting from Byungyoon, now?

“Stop being enigmatic. It doesn’t suit you,” Byungyoon huffed. Sungmin then glared at him, so Byungyoon shrugged apologetically. “Right. Sorry. Okay, you’re not fine. But, like, why?”

Sungmin wasn’t difficult to understand. Byungyoon knew him all too well; and it was quite obvious why he was upset. Byungyoon felt like he was babysitting his cousin who sulked every time. Not in an unpleasant way like that, obviously—even now, Sungmin still looked endearing.

“You don’t want to talk about it.” Byungyoon guessed.

“Huh.” Sungmin lowered his gaze and stared at his socks intently.

“It’s fine.” Byungyoon glanced at Sungmin’s eyes—which were still glued to his fascinating mismatched socks—and aligned his body with Sungmin’s, facing the huge telly screen. He took an unopened bottle of soju, twisted the lids, and drank a quarter of it.

Sungmin snorted next to him. “You said it’s brainless to drink straight from the bottle,”

Byungyoon smiled lopsidedly. “I didn’t say it’s brainless.”

“I know.”

There was another silence. Sungmin fiddled the carpet area between them, circling repeatedly. His anxious fingers almost touched Byungyoon’s thigh. Byungyoon raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t do anything.

“Sometimes I just want to disappear,” Sungmin sighed to no one in particular. He took a long sip from his half empty bottle. “Life’s just unbearable.”

“For now.” Byungyoon whispered, and mimicked Sungmin almost immediately. He reminded himself to not get too drunk or he’d certainly say things that he’d definitely regret to his best friend.

“Yeah, for now.” Sungmin agreed. “Thank you for reminding me that.”

Byungyoon frowned in surprise. Apparently alien abductions and lizard people were a thing now. He went for something less extreme though, since the aliens probably couldn’t stand Sungmin’s inexplicable remarks and complains. “Did someone hit you in the head or something?”

“What—I was trying to be sincere, you idiot!” Sungmin flushed.

Definitely weren’t alien abductions. Byungyoon placed his own bottle on the table.

“Well—that was nice, I guess; but you frightened me. Are you sure you’re not a clone of Ryu Sungmin?”

“Ha. Very funny.” Sungmin scrutinised his own bottle, not making any eye contact.

Byungyoon responded with a huge grin, “I am, indeed.”

“Why are you so…” Sungmin trailed off.

“What?”

“Unbothered. You seem like nothing’s wrong with your life.” Sungmin bit his lower lip. “But that’s not possible. Knowing you, you’re probably not talking about it and instead you’re hoping that your problems will be gone.”

“Well,” Byungyoon cleared his throat. That was terrifyingly correct. And he didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll tell you what’s bothering me after you tell me what’s bothering you.” Sungmin offered. He placed his soju on top of the table, right next to Byungyoon’s. The moonlight glimmer from Sungmin’s slightly opened window made his features look softer.

Byungyoon took a deep breath. Aliens could kidnap him now, he thought, and dismissed it immediately. “It’s nothing serious.”

“I feel like the older we become—I complain a lot more.” Sungmin hit Byungyoon’s arm. “And you, a lot less. Why’s that?”

 _You should’ve_ _known why._ Byungyoon was suddenly feeling a little too frustrated with himself. Of course he complained a lot less, Byungyoon thought. He was sodding hiding something from his own best friend. He was hiding the fact that he was gay to begin with.

But it was not like he could tell Sungmin and expect that it will go as smoothly as the one with Wonjae. It wasn’t like he could expect that everything would turn out okay.

“Sorry.”

“Still not telling?” Sungmin sounded disappointed, but he understood anyway.

“It’s not that. I mean, uh… Mum’s asking for a grandchild. I don’t even have a girlfriend,” Byungyoon sighed, his words less structured than usual. He figured that Sungmin would still understand. “Not that I want to have one, too; so don’t even try to introduce anyone to me.” He added.

“I’ve given up on that a long time ago,” Sungmin chuckled. “You’re still twenty-seven, though. And I’m a firm believer that nobody can tell you what to do with your own life. Fuck all of that,”

“I know. That’s pretty much I’m doing right now, ignoring her every time she talks about family. Honestly, I’m still too young for that crap.”

“Well, I hope she’ll realise that soon enough. Or you could probably tell her, you know—that you’re bloody uncomfortable.” Sungmin suggested.

Byungyoon shook his head absentmindedly. “She doesn’t understand,” _She doesn’t know_ , he added to himself. _So do you_.

“Sometimes I forget that.”

Byungyoon clicked his tongue, liquefying the silence. “That’s pretty much about it, really.” He nodded. He was excruciatingly close to spill the whole mess, to just—give up his secret, but as if he was struck by a lightning, he stopped himself. Instead, he asked: “How are things for you?”

Sungmin bit his lower lip and sighed. “Haeun came by, this morning.” He said, and by the way he said it gave everything away: Ryu Haeun, or Ryu Sungmin, possibly, did something terrible.

Byungyoon didn’t want to make any guess further than that, because: a) Haeun was sort of his own sister, since he didn’t have any; b) Haeun was a nice kid, so the only possibility left was; c) Ryu Sungmin fucked up. Byungyoon shivered at the thought.

“Hasn’t she contacted you or anything?” Sungmin asked, and then shook his head forlornly. “It doesn’t matter. She told me she would, so,”

Byungyoon frowned. Countless thoughts were starting to consume him frozen, because why on earth Ryu Haeun made Sungmin upset; and it probably had something to do with him—if it wasn’t the matter of his own feelings?

“…gay.” Sungmin had said something, and Byungyoon paled. He hadn’t heard the full sentence amidst the mess inside his head, so he could only say: “Sorry?” and hoped for the best. He also hoped that somebody would assassinate him at that moment. And bury him somewhere in the forest. Shit.

“She told me she’s gay. And we… sort of fought.”

Shit.

* * *

“Let me get this clear: she’s gay, and she planned to come out to everyone, and your first reaction was thinking and actually saying it out loud that she’s out of her mind? What the fuck were you thinking?” Byungyoon snapped.

Ryu Haeun, as it turned out, was gay. And probably out, by now. She preferred the term ‘gay’ instead of ‘lesbian’, according to Sungmin; she had told her idiotic brother and he was not very supportive of the idea. Honestly, Ryu Sungmin could go to hell.

“You weren’t supposed to take anyone’s side here,” Sungmin said in a weak tone, because he knew he was a giant turd who wasn’t in his right mind.

“You _were_ supposed to be supportive of her, you bigoted freak!” Byungyoon fumed. He felt his blood boiling and Sungmin looked at him helplessly.

“Will you at least let me explain?” Sungmin asked, and Byungyoon had no patience and was a bit afraid that he’d blurt something he regret so he shook his right foot out of annoyance.

“I support her, okay, she’s my goddamn sister and I love her no matter what—I only thought that it’d be risky if she tells everyone _immediately_.”

Byungyoon had thought Sungmin was an idiot. Well, he still was an idiot, but he wasn’t a massive idiot. “You need to fucking work on your communication skills,” he said, smacking the stupidity out of Sungmin’s back.

Sungmin groaned, possibly in a lot of pain. “I know! That’s why I bloody said I need a drink,” He muttered. “I just don’t want her to get hurt, Byungyoon, you out of all people should know how nasty people can be.”

Byungyoon closed his eyes, hoping the gesture would suddenly calm his heartbeat down. He might hyperventilate at this rate.

“You’re mad at me,” Ryu I’m So Observant Sungmin observed.

“Of course I was! I thought you were a fucking bigot, you tosser; god help us all.”

Sungmin didn’t reply. He didn’t move either, so Byungyoon peeked with an eye. He threw another defeated sigh. “And then what, she left, and you did nothing but drink?”

“She stormed out, that’s the word. And no, I tried to call her too, but she didn’t pick up.” Sungmin worked his way to his third bottle, but Byungyoon wasn’t going to take any of his bullshits so he slapped his hand.

“Stop drinking for now, genius, and text her already.” Byungyoon impatiently reached out Sungmin’s mobile phone and shoved it on his hands. “And explain everything. She doesn’t have an arsehole brother but he is quite stupid,”

“A half of me hates you passionately,” Sungmin said, and his thumbs moved fast because that was the only thing he was good at: texting.

Byungyoon also took out his mobile phone, checking his messages. “The other half loves me so much for my brain because apparently you don’t have any.” He muttered.

Haeun did text him, more or less three hours ago.

At this point, Byungyoon was almost convinced that his best friend was not the only massive unhinged idiot in the room. He pursed his lips and braced himself; Haeun could be as bitter as Sungmin.

_Haeun-i: I expect you to know about it at this point_

_Haeun-i: I’m gay, probably my idiotic brother told you already seeing how uncomfortable he was with the idea_

_Haeun-i: If not, well, I’m gay, and no I don’t need another bloody “brotherly” lecture. I’ve had enough this morning thanks_

The Ryus probably shared the same nasty temper genes in their body, somewhere. Byungyoon sighed as he typed a lengthy response because he wanted Haeun to know that he supported her fully, and that he didn’t even think to lecture her and he thought she was very brave. It was something he still could not do, he didn’t add, instead he ended the reply with _I’m very fucking proud of you_.

Also, because Byungyoon couldn’t stand the sight of Sungmin being so damn dejected, he added: _your brother isn’t uncomfortable, he’s just dumb and needs to work on his communication skills_.

Haeun hadn’t replied, so he put his mobile away.

“I’m craving dried squid,” Sungmin said beside him, putting his mobile away as well. He was probably waiting for Haeun’s reply too, or preparing for his doom. Byungyoon guessed either one was correct anyway. “Why don’t you bring anything?” He enquired.

As if Byungyoon could think of that. “You just bought those,” Byungyoon pointed out instead. He eyed the bottles in front of him.

“And?”

“Normally, when one plans to drink, also buy foods…?” Byungyoon frowned at his probably deranged friend he unfortunately loved dearly. “Who drinks without the snacks, anyway?”

“Byungyoon, you were supposed to bring me dried squid!” Sungmin cried dramatically. “See, I thought you were my friend. You were supposed to be my crème de la crème! I’m disappointed,”

“Should I be concerned for you or laugh at you, at this point, I don’t even know.” Byungyoon said as he stood up, patting his trousers. He stared at Sungmin who looked absolutely atrocious with his matching orange jumpers and trousers.

“You’re not leaving me now, aren’t you?” Sungmin looked up with a confused gaze.

“Of course not, we’re going to the minimarket. Let’s go.” Byungyoon raised his eyebrows as his right hand grabbed Sungmin’s to support him standing.

Upon hearing that, Sungmin giggled, that enchanting laugh he let out when he was utterly delighted by something. He giggled some more, because he was stupid like that. And lovely. Byungyoon pretended to be unfazed but it was so fucking hard, damn it.

* * *

“Let’s take the stairs,” Sungmin’s voice echoed in the empty hallway. He was walking beside Byungyoon, until he dropped his pace and started walking behind him.

Byungyoon didn’t ask anything, and continued walking without trying to match his footsteps with Sungmin’s. Because knowing him, he probably planned something mischievous behind Byungyoon’s back, and usually, _usually_ , Byungyoon caught him beforehand. But today he was kind of a mess—so, Byungyoon thought, let him be, and he should brace himself.

Anything to put a smile on that gloomy-drunk face.

“Okay,” he replied, softly.

The stairs were on his right, Byungyoon had no idea why but he realised that he was holding his breath. He just couldn’t recall why. His body felt tense, too; as if they knew what they were expecting. But expecting what, exactly?

As he stepped on the sixth stair (yes, he kept count), he realised that Sungmin wasn’t following him. There was no echo of footsteps beside his own. He turned around. “Are you coming or what?”

Sungmin smiled at him, possibly getting drunker as the time went, and declared: “I’m now finally taller than you.” As if he landed on the moon like Neil Armstrong did. Twice as proud, though.

Sungmin took big steps, two at a time, and he was finally in front of dumbstruck Byungyoon who knew too little what to do. He put both of his palms on Byungyoon’s shoulders, his grips tight for someone drunk, his grin didn’t falter. “You have no idea how it brings me joy if you have to look up to talk to me,” He said, eyes manic. “God bless anyone who invented the stairs.”

Byungyoon chuckled, trying to remain calm. This was what his body was expecting, mostly, he remembered. Only slightly different, though, because it never hit him _this_ hard—Sungmin’s hands were too much—and he should really stop thinking about them or he’d go insane. “It’s not always fun being tall, y’know?”

Byungyoon did mean that, he would actually shorten his height if possible. It’d be more amusing if he and Sungmin were the same height, he thought. He also had a suspicion that their height difference made Sungmin a little insecure back in their school days.

And Sungmin, of course, would never accept his fate; instead, he tortured Byungyoon to piggyback him almost every time—well, when he was really bored, but their classes bored him most of the time anyway.

Byungyoon snorted at the memory. He wondered if Sungmin remembered what he used to do as well.

“I didn’t say I want to be tall,” Sungmin said, like he was discussing the fate of the nations in his hands. “I said it’ll be much fun if I’m taller than you.” He continued, throwing another grin. “Chop-chop!”

Sungmin flipped Byungyoon’s body, urging him to continue walking, without taking his hands off. Byungyoon wanted to ask, why, exactly, but Sungmin was speaking, again, before he could open his mouth. Or precisely: he practically jumped on Byungyoon’s back, his arms clasping tight around Byungyoon’s neck, his feet dangling. Byungyoon, thank god for his quick reflex, held Sungmin’s both thighs as he swore (that was also a reflex). “Piggyback,” Sungmin simply remarked.

There was a breeze caused by his movements that caught Byungyoon’s olfactory receptors—it was all cinnamon, with a hint of alcohol. Occasionally, he wondered if Sungmin’s natural body scent was cinnamon-like, since he was using the same products since he was fifteen. “I thought you were done torturing me,” Byungyoon demanded, carefully stepping at the path in front of him. “I was also thinking about what you used to do at school. You do remember,”

Sungmin chuckled behind him, his body vibrated on Byungyoon’s back. “Of course I do. It still feels like yesterday,”

“It’s been ten years!”

“Don’t laugh or we will both fall,” Sungmin scolded, his left hand hitting Byungyoon’s shoulder. It didn’t hurt that much, but Byungyoon groaned by surprise. “Unlike you, with your demented chunk of a brain, I remember high school memories vividly.” He added, visibly ignoring Byungyoon’s cries of pain.

“I swear to god I’m going to drop you,” Byungyoon threatened as he reached the last two stairs. Incongruous to his words, he righted his hands’ positions so he could support Sungmin’s almost-slipping-down body better. Then, he realised, sort of belatedly: both of them were the epitomes of inconsistency.

“Indeed we are.” Sungmin admitted sombrely because clearly, Byungyoon had accidentally voiced his thought out loud. “I gave up thinking about how many times I contradict myself since a long time ago and I get drunk instead,” he continued.

Byungyoon sort of ducked his head to the security standing in front of the main door, whom he noticed never gave him the _weird_ stares like the other two. He hoped that his awkward smile conveyed that Sungmin definitely made him do it; none of these were his idea. Byungyoon also sort of sprinted out of self-consciousness, he didn’t really see the security’s response (not that he wanted to, either). “I hope you were joking when you said that.” He said, after they got out of the building.

Sungmin sniggered.

* * *

The cashier with the cool glasses and some nose piercings gave them a weird stare when they got inside the twenty-four hours minimarket. Of course.

Sungmin hopped off him, to rush to the sweet aisle. “He’s drunk,” Byungyoon explained to the cashier, because honestly, enough embarrassment for now. They just nodded. Byungyoon decided to grab two triangle gimbabs—cheesy chicken and spicy tuna, of course. They were always tasty, no matter where and when.

“I’m not drunk, tosser,” Sungmin said to him when they met in front of the beverage aisle, hugging a big bag of marshmallow with the label ‘party pack’ in front.

“Then what do you want me to say? ‘He likes to do that when he’s sad and despondent’?” Byungyoon frowned, mocking Sungmin who obviously deserved the mocking.

“Whatever.” Sungmin muttered, as he hit Byungyoon with the party pack marshmallow. Byungyoon narrowly escaped from Sungmin’s reach and he laughed.

“You know you get easily irritated when you’re drunk, right?” he asked, reaching for the party-sized cheese balls and the reusable bag next to it, putting everything inside.

Sungmin tailed behind him, waving his hands dismissively. “The spicy tuna’s one is mine,” he said, eyeing the triangle gimbabs he saw Byungyoon put in the big shopping bag. He put his precious marshmallow and some other sweets inside, which earned a silent complaint from Byungyoon because it was taking up space. “right?”

“Yeah,” Byungyoon nodded. He wasn’t really thinking when he grabbed them, though, he certainly didn’t have Sungmin’s favourite in mind except that he subconsciously did. Why would he take the tuna one, he hated tuna. It definitely was Sungmin’s.

“Also, they don’t have dried squids here.” Sungmin scrunched his nose.

“But they have elephant-sized marshmallow, chocolate bars, gummy bears, shrimp crackers…” Byungyoon trailed off as he looked inside his already full shopping bag. “At this rate we might as well go to Han River and have a picnic there,”

“I’m low on sugar, okay,” Sungmin argued, pausing, “and if you want me to go with you there that bad you could just ask.” He smirked, the frown gone.

“The last time we went there,” Byungyoon bit his lower lip cautiously, “it was a mess. With the people, remember,”

“The nasty testosterone-infused high school students, you mean?” Sungmin raised his eyebrows, silently taking the shopping bag from Byungyoon’s hand. Byungyoon didn’t know whether he took it because he wanted to add more things in it or he genuinely felt sorry that Byungyoon had to carry the weight of his insignificant cravings. “Honestly—I don’t care, fuck them.”

Byungyoon smiled at him, this time he didn’t even try to conceal how glad he was. Because if Sungmin started to care about those things, he knew they were both doomed. “Fuck them.”

They were standing in front of the cashier who seemed incredibly bored. Byungyoon already handed his bag, rather hazily—Sungmin was smiling back at him, his lips curving up in a slightly incorrect angle but it was still the most beautiful thing anyway—and it was all that Byungyoon could focus on.

“Will you be paying with cards?” The cashier asked.

“Yes,” Byungyoon forced his gaze to point in front, handing his t-card. He heard rustling beside him, and he saw Sungmin already grabbing his chocolate bar on his right hand and the shopping bag on his left.

“I’ll wait outside!” Sungmin nudged, and with that he was gone. He had the soul of an eight years old, okay; Byungyoon reminded himself and rolled his eyes.

The cashier gave his t-card back after finishing his payment. Byungyoon thanked them while he opened his wallet to put his card inside. Nobody was behind him, anyway, they wouldn’t mind.

“Good luck,” The cashier sighed, and Byungyoon frowned as he looked up. They were staring at Sungmin’s blurry silhouette outside the sliding door. He knew what they meant immediately. He was about to get defensive, but he realised that it wouldn’t help him anymore. Besides, the cashier probably saw them more than four times already, those times were probably enough—since everybody seemed to be arsing good at analysing him and his everlasting love for his best friend.

“Thanks. Really need it,” he grimaced, and went for Sungmin, who was already on his second chocolate bar.

* * *

As they walked—now side by side—back to Sungmin’s flat, Byungyoon found himself fidgeting and Sungmin was staring at him curiously. Also, he had counted every stone he had seen (it was only sixteen, by the way), and most notably, he hadn’t listened to Sungmin’s rambling.

“What’s up, Byungyoon, be honest.” Sungmin took two huge steps and he was standing in front of Byungyoon, stopping his track. His second chocolate bar was half eaten, and he looked like he was high on sugar; but Byungyoon reckoned that he always looked that way. Like a mad scientist, except that he lacked the brain part.

“Nothing, I was just making sure that—I hadn’t left my door unlocked,” Byungyoon stumbled his words, hoping that it still sounded unfeigned. It wasn’t technically a lie, now that he had said it, he tried to remember whether he did lock his door or not. It wasn’t the main thing that occupied his mind, though.

Sungmin wasn’t buying it, Byungyoon guessed. But he was nice enough to let it slide, and he shrugged. “Has Haeun texted you?” He sighed. The anguish was clear on his face—if only Byungyoon could make them go away, if it was his place to kiss the frown between Sungmin’s eyebrows away, he would, in a heartbeat. He wasn’t sure how Sungmin would react if he kissed him now, either, so it was not an option.

Byungyoon nodded. “Yeah, but she hasn’t read my reply.”

The chocolate on Sungmin’s hand was hanging low, forgotten. “She’s probably asleep by now,” He said, most likely trying to assure himself. “God, I wish you were there to stop me from fucking up,”

Sungmin hugged him. If it could count as an assault, it was; because Sungmin almost tackled him to the ground with the unexpected force, but he steadied Byungyoon by holding him in place too. Byungyoon didn’t expect that either.

So, Byungyoon huffed a startled laugh, hugging him back. Sungmin’s long hair was really soft, and he tiptoed just a little bit—to find the right angle so he could rest his chin on Byungyoon’s shoulder. It was truly wonderful. “Everything will be just fine, Sungmin.” He affirmed, because it was the only thing he could do. He knew both of them, Haeun and Sungmin, and they reconciled as much as they fought. Byungyoon wasn’t really worried about that.

He was fairly worried about how reverberant his constantly increasing heartbeat, which was deafening to his own ear. He hoped that it wasn't too palpable—Sungmin could not know.

“I hope so,” Sungmin paused, his voice was supressed because he wasn’t tiptoeing anymore. “I still think it’s a good idea to have you around,”

Byungyoon’s heart skipped a beat.

Sometimes, too often for his liking, he wished that they live together too. His feelings aside, he had those dreams since high school where he’d live in a comfortable flat; big windows, indoor plants, and a studio inside—with Sungmin. They’d work together, and live together, and Sungmin wouldn’t be missing meals, wouldn't have the constant headache because he was relying on caffeine too much. Byungyoon would be happy, he would simply be happy.

Of course, he had accomplished his dreams. Most of it, anyway. But Sungmin was missing, they didn’t live together, though they see each other more than five times a week. He didn’t install his equipment at home either, instead he had a separate studio that he could go to whenever. Sungmin was given the key, too. Just like he had Sungmin’s studio keys.

He didn't accomplish the dream that mattered the most. Still, everything was more than he had hoped for, he never thought they’d be _this_ recognised, but they did. And he could proudly say that they deserved that.

But he wasn’t… happy. He didn’t think that it was enough, for him, because he thought he wanted the fame—but it turned out that he didn’t, really. He wanted to have peace with himself, which was so damn hard to do, for Christ’s sake. Not that he wasn’t able to defend himself. He was quite good at it; reminding people if they had stepped over the line.

He knew, too, that the only thing that would help him find the peace he was looking for, was to admit his feelings. Accept them. And by that, he meant _actually_ confessing his affection to his best friend. The question was: when would he be ready?

The inevitable fallout that would definitely happen between them, would he be ready for that? He didn’t think so. He would never be ready to lose someone that (without them knowing) maintained his sanity and stability, in some ways, and he realised that he had just put Sungmin in a difficult place with shitloads of burden. Sungmin wouldn’t like that. He brushed off the thought.

“Byungyoon,” Sungmin called as he wiggled his way out of Byungyoon’s hug, simultaneously shoving the rest of his chocolate bars into Byungyoon’s mouth. “I think I ate too much chocolate,” he sighed after the successful attempt of making Byungyoon his personal rubbish bin.

Byungyoon cringed at the sweetness of the chocolate inside his mouth. “It’s ruddy horrible.”

“It’s good! What the fuck are you talking about,” Sungmin defended. They were already in front of the lift, the door opening for them and there was nobody inside. It only took half a minute to get outside Sungmin’s door, and Sungmin were pushing the digits with his finger frantically. The lights turned red, because the stupid git wasn’t pressing the correct last two digits. Sungmin hissed in irritation, carelessly pressing the numerical pads even faster this time, and the lights turned red once again.

“Let me do it,” Byungyoon shoved Sungmin aside, getting impatient. He wanted some water, goddammit, the chocolate taste was really terrible and he swore by it. Sungmin’s clumsiness wasn’t making it easier for him.

“This is bloody ridiculous!” Sungmin swore, it was the only other thing he was good at. Byungyoon smirked at him.

They went inside, Byungyoon first. Sungmin was literally pushing him from behind. “If you put the digits incorrectly once more, will you be locked outside?” he asked, out of curiosity. He had never gotten his passcode wrong. He could even do it with his eyes closed. Seeing Sungmin, it was probably his talent, or that Sungmin was very dependent individual indeed.

Sungmin stared at him with a manic expression and a weird grin plastered on his face. “We both will be,” because he knew Byungyoon wouldn’t left him alone if that actually happened.

Byungyoon gave up on that, and rushed to get some water. He heard Sungmin laughing behind him, probably because the expression he just gave.

“Fuck—I love him so much,” Byungyoon blurted, silently to himself. Sungmin wasn’t near him, and he had the urge to spit the words and it was awful. Sungmin didn’t hear him. Honestly, he was half relieved, half disappointed by that.

The water washed out most of the taste, and perhaps sobered him up a bit. He was drunk, certainly. It didn’t wash out the waves of overwhelming frustration in him, though, and for the first time in a while, Byungyoon was confused and unsure with himself. 

“Byungyoon, Byungyoon, Byungyoon,” Sungmin chanted, suddenly popping behind him, stopping his mind from agonising his whole pathetic situation that would plausibly made everything worse. “I thought you were crying in the kitchen.” Came Sungmin's usual voice with a hint of glee in it, since he was making fun of Byungyoon.

“You’re a wanker, you know that?” Byungyoon emptied his bottle, took another one from Sungmin’s fridge, and tossed the empty one to the nearest bin.

Sungmin feigned an o-shape with his mouth. “You are crying! Oh dear,” he continued, holding in his laugh. He was using the tone he usually used when he was imitating their homeroom teacher. “Here, here. I know what we should do to cheer you up,” he said, as he took Byungyoon’s wrist, almost the fingers, even, and dragged him to the sofa.

Byungyoon had to pretend that it was not affecting him at all, that the sudden contact was _bearable_ , that Sungmin was only being his usual self. He shifted uncomfortably, subtle enough so Sungmin wouldn't realise. “You have incredible talent to debut as a theatre actor.” Byungyoon sighed, and he meant every word he had said. Sungmin paid him no mind, letting go of his hand. The obtuse loon-slash-git was busy looking for another Brooklyn Nine-Nine season they hadn’t watch in a while.

“On second thought, let’s watch a horror film!” Sungmin turned to him, possibly realising that they had watched every season of the show recently. Byungyoon dared to say that he looked quite scandalised by that fact, and Byungyoon honestly wasn’t sure where Sungmin got the sudden bravery because he was a scaredy cat.

All right, he wasn’t scared of ghosts or anything, no, but he got surprised pretty easily so he didn’t really enjoy horror and thriller. Mostly, Sungmin loved action films, and loved insulting Byungyoon’s adoration for biographical films—but cried watching The Theory of Everything and The Imitation Game. Both of which case happened inside the cinema they frequently went to. To be fair, Byungyoon had not been surprised by that, because Ryu Moron Sungmin was actually sentimental. In conclusion, Sungmin always made bad decisions, and it was Byungyoon’s responsibility to ask the logical question: “Why?”

“I don’t know. Why not?”

“Why not,” Byungyoon repeated the words. “Yeah, why the fuck not.”

* * *

Midsommar was a bad idea.

Byungyoon wasn’t usually the type to scream, but he screamed his lungs out in the middle of the film, while Sungmin was visibly shaken and unable to move—curled up beside Byungyoon. The blanket was used to cover Sungmin’s face many times, and occasionally to muffle his screams, but both of them just could not stop watching.

It was undoubtedly traumatising. Byungyoon thought he never swore as much in his life as he did the whole two hours of the film, and when the credit rolled in the end he only managed to breathe properly. “Now we know why this movie is so popular,” he commented, almost biting his own tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck…?” Sungmin lips quivered, still bothered with the ending while Byungyoon constantly reminding him to breathe.

Sungmin was not the type to get over things quickly, and Byungyoon was sure as hell that for the next month he’d be paranoid of everyone who would try to talk to him. He’d probably accuse anyone as a cult leader too, at this point. “Okay, fuck, no trips to Sweden. Ever.”

“All right, then, I’ll go alone,” Byungyoon teased, since the graphic memories from Midsommar were still fresh inside his head and he wanted to shift his focus on anything else.

“You can’t!” Sungmin bumped his body to Byungyoon’s, almost hysterical.

“But you just said—

“You won’t survive _that_ alone,” Sungmin interrupted, shook his head, then threw some marshmallows on Byungyoon's head. “with me we’ll have higher survival chance. We could be the first one to make it out of there, alive!”

“Yeah, probably. We’ll probably still lose a limb or two, but okay.” Byungyoon grinned delightedly. Sungmin was not making any sense, and it wasn’t because of the alcohol. He didn’t even touch another bottle of soju he had bought, though the contents of their shopping bag sort of dissipated without any trace. He also looked like he was electrocuted but still managed to live, though he had become a bit mad.

Sungmin nodded satisfactorily, appearing to be content enough for someone who was about to lose a limb to a certain fictional cult in Sweden. He rested his body to Byungyoon's, head on his shoulder, tugging the blanket closer. 

Byungyoon decided to not really think about it, at least for now, and instead he thought: Midsommar was a good idea (to drive Sungmin away from getting wasted).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ryu sungmin here, is a difficult prick, everyone. please bear with him. also yes, the cashier uses they/them pronoun!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!

Back then, they used to race to the cafeteria; the loser would have to buy the winner’s first recess meals—banana bread and strawberry milk for Sungmin (usually, unless he had his recurring stomach ulcer; he’d opt for water then), red bean bread and canned coffee for Byungyoon. They used the fastest route which involved the staircase next to the teachers’ office, and crossing the football field. If it wasn’t obvious enough, yes, both of them often got into troubles by running in the hallways, and disturbing their teachers with their loud voices.

On their last year of school, Byungyoon often caught Sungmin stalling. Like, stopping his track on the upper area of the staircase. He’d randomly call Byungyoon’s name, possibly to distract him from running and being the winner of their childish game. The first time Sungmin did that—he had said in an utmost serious tone he could muster, that “drinking milk to help you grow taller is a fucking myth,” and “every time we talk, we should do it here.”

Byungyoon had a good laugh because of that. Sungmin wanted to be taller! Seeing his reaction, Sungmin had shook Byungyoon’s body violently and hissed, “Don’t laugh, you heartless idiot.”

They didn’t, of course, it would be a ruddy nuisance if every time he wanted to talk, he had to drag Sungmin outside their classroom to the stairs. It was a horrible idea, and Ryu Sungmin had been an obnoxious git. Never wasn’t.

Mostly, when Sungmin tried to stop Byungyoon from running and winning (and learning that it wouldn’t work), he’d forcefully hold Byungyoon in place and hopped onto his back. “It’d be fair if we both buy each other’s foods, so, we have to get there together.” He said, with the foolish grin he had plastered on his face.

He said that, as if he wasn’t heavy and balancing them on a bloody staircase was easy. “We could just walk together,” Byungyoon suggested, keeping his body stiff upwards so that they wouldn’t fall. He carried Sungmin unsteadily, with people literally staring and laughing at them. Sungmin shook his head fiercely, so that Byungyoon could feel how strongly he disagreed without looking.

Byungyoon tutted. “Stay still—Jesus Christ! Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends when your hobby is embarrassing me on purpose.”

“Are you embarrassed now?” Sungmin asked, his breath was hot on Byungyoon’s left ear, and it tickled.

Honestly, Byungyoon had had not known how to answer that. Chances were: a) Sungmin would make him do this more to embarrass him if he’d answered ‘yes, obviously, people are goddamn staring,’; b) Sungmin would sulk all day anyway because his answer would be ‘yes’, still. “Aren’t you?” he threw back, choosing the safest response.

“I’m not!” Sungmin said, his voice a little high because of the unstable hormones from puberty. “I think you’ve officially become… the shame-bearer of the both of us,” he giggled.

Then, Byungyoon thought, realisation was in small things. Like when Sungmin let him borrow his precious limited-edition album that Byungyoon couldn’t get. Or when Sungmin came to his house when he was sick and no one was around, to change the wet washcloth every time it got warm. And Byungyoon didn’t really know why, but when Sungmin said that, he felt the sudden realisation. That his friendship with Sungmin would last for a long time. That he’d always be by his side and Sungmin wouldn’t leave him, too. Even if he was given the choice, he would still choose to be Sungmin’s friend—dumb and dumber as people might call them (Sungmin’s dumber of course), rather than not knowing him at all.

Oh, he was getting sentimental. He felt like hugging his friend, except that it would be weird and Sungmin would definitely ask _why_. Byungyoon wouldn’t know what to answer.

“Obviously—it’s my responsibility to be embarrassed, god, seeing that you’re pretty much shameless.” Byungyoon coughed, trying to normalise his tone of speaking.

Sungmin seemed pretty content with his reply, and if he noticed that Byungyoon was somewhat choked up, he didn’t say anything. He only tightened his arms, and Byungyoon was very comforted by the unintentional gesture.

After that, the piggyback ride became the thing everyone associated them with.

* * *

Lately, Byungyoon had been wondering how he managed to keep his secret from Sungmin this whole time, because it seemed that after the disaster of Sungmin almost— _almost_ —knowing Byungyoon’s feelings, things were getting out of hand for him. Also, Sungmin was suddenly aware; suspicious, even, of how people see him and Byungyoon. It was almost as if somebody had straight up walked to him and say, “Byungyoon fancies you, you dumbfuck.”

To be fair, Sungmin was always quick to understand him, he knew, like when he was secretly sad because of the Supreme Team disbandment—even though he denied it. Sungmin was the first one to realise, and he had ridiculed Byungyoon like there was no tomorrow; but in the end, Sungmin had said to him that it would be okay, and of course it would. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t release anymore song, though individually. He had had not known that eventually, both of them would get close with Simon Dominic (Jung Kiseok, okay, he knew, but he had the coolest stage name ever and that kind of stuck on everyone’s heads at this point) too after Show Me the Money 5.

It still didn’t shed a light for what had happened, though. Sungmin took roughly four years to—suddenly—grasp the situation, which Byungyoon still had the suspicion that someone other than him might be responsible for that.

Or maybe, a traitorous sound inside his head spoke—maybe, Sungmin was getting tired, because he had known all along. It was probably building up inside him, all this time, buried deep, and he just… exploded. He was stressed out, and the observers around them were making things worse. It had nothing to do with Byungyoon, for sure, and of course it wasn’t because Sungmin all of a sudden felt their relationship had shifted to some extent. Massively. Until he started questioning his _own_ feelings towards Byungyoon. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

No, of course not. Byungyoon wanted to strangle whoever it was who planted the possibility of Sungmin fancying him back, but he realised that he couldn’t strangle himself. He felt horrible for secretly hoping for a changing-water-into-wine-and-other-weird-craps-Jesus-did kind of miracle, and it couldn’t be, god, how many times he circulated the words already—his brain just wouldn’t get used to the idea. Even if Sungmin did fancy him, even just a teeny-tiny bit, he would know. That was just how things worked between them.

And if Byungyoon knew anything other than his own best friend’s thoroughly absent romantic feelings towards himself, was that bad things were always waiting after series of good events; and things had been going well for them—too well. The calmness before storm, he was sure he had heard of that phrase somewhere, and it was somewhat befitting. It was this; the one he was dreading for. There was no use of not thinking any of it, of denying it, he had to come clean eventually.

Sungmin would hate it if he found out that everyone but him had known about Byungyoon, he’d feel betrayed. Byungyoon would also feel like he was betraying his best friend (not that he planned to tell anyone before Sungmin; Wonjae was a surprise element he had no control over). On the other side, Byungyoon was goddamn sure that there was no way he could come out and admit his feelings on separate occasions. He wanted everything to be done with, and everything was a messy pile of shit, but there was nobody else to blame beside his anxiety-ridden self. The time had finally come, where Byungyoon _hated_ weighing options his mind had to offer, unlike his usual self—and just bloody wished that somebody would toss a dice for him.

“What in the name of god are you talking about?” Wonjae shot out. Byungyoon was sure Wonjae made a face at him, curling his mouth into a grimace because it was what he always did when Byungyoon did something irksome for his standards.

Byungyoon opened his eyes—he didn’t realise he was closing them—and immediately felt the pounding on his head, like somebody had inserted a thousand needles on his scalp, through his skull, without anaesthesia. He wanted to throw up. He also knew not to, because Wonjae would definitely murder him if he decided to throw up inside his new, motherfucking expensive car. “How much did you hear?” he managed, deciding to close his eyes again.

“Tossing a dice for you,”

Byungyoon nodded weakly, blindly reaching the power button for the fucking radio. The diabolical yet familiar tune was on full blast, although he couldn’t really enjoy it over the pain he was feeling right now. The sound died right out, as he was able to find the button with ease. “Right,” he said, hoping that Wonjae would fill the blank for him. “I was thinking out loud. How did I end up in your car, again?”

“Open your eyes, this isn’t my car. It’s yours,” Wonjae muttered.

Byungyoon peeked with his right eye, seeing Wonjae on his steering wheel. Right. The memories rushed into him unpleasantly. He couldn’t drive home last night, because he had drunk two bottles of soju, and while he could call a chauffeur to drive him home, he just couldn’t leave Sungmin who was already content on his shoulder (blah, excuses). They actually ended up sleeping in that position.

He recalled too, later that night, he had shared his location to Wonjae, instinctively. He didn’t know why, he was mostly drunk, and it was just apt that Wonjae was the friend you could always depend on. Wonjae picked him up the next morning, much to Sungmin’s disapproval. It was probably because Choi Wonjae disturbed his sleep.

If he wasn’t hungover, it probably would’ve been a delight to see Wonjae scuttling for excuses.

This time, Byungyoon half succeeded on opening his eyes without wanting to throw up. “What did you say to Sungmin?” he asked.

Wonjae was mumbling something about aspirins and nearest chemist before he answered, “I said you were helping me for my new album.” And he threw a long sigh. “Then he asked, quite the brain he has even when he was utterly smashed, ‘but you’ve released one this year, though?’ and I answered that I wanted to release another one. Now, help me out here, is he the type to remember things?”

It somehow made Byungyoon relaxed that he could be sure about Sungmin’s drunk and hangover habits. “No, he’ll absolutely forget.”

Wonjae nodded, less grumpy about Byungyoon’s answer. “Good, because if he asks me about the progress of my non-existent album, you’ll have to be responsible and produce everything from scratch.”

It seemed that rolling his eyes was not possible, if he didn’t want to suffer. He didn’t. “Oh, please. I’m sure you had planned everything.”

“Still, you should give me a fucking medal, arsehole, I took a fucking taxi because you drove your car instead even when you knew you’d be unable to drive home!” Wonjae halted the car as if somebody yanked his hair and blinded his eyes. “I can’t believe I did this for an ungrateful bastard,” he continued, and the engine stopped.

Byungyoon held his seatbelt for dear life, groaning at the abrupt stop Wonjae did, possibly to murder him with nausea. “All right, all right. Too early for a nagging,” he waved his hand in a dismissal.

There was a sound of seatbelt unclicking, Wonjae shuffling in his seat, and the familiar sound of the door opening. “Wait here,” Wonjae grunted, and he disappeared from Byungyoon’s sight.

What the hell was happening, Byungyoon thought. He wanted to say something, like, _don’t go and leave myself to have a conversation with my brain_ , but he somehow knew it didn’t make any sense. Byungyoon focused his eyes outside his car, and he saw Wonjae going inside a small building that looked like the one that sold aspirins.

Byungyoon sighed in contentment, trying to sober himself up.

Then, he remembered: Ryu Haeun. His hands fumbled around his seat, patting the pockets of his trousers. He founded it on top of Wonjae’s mobile instead, between their seats. He scanned his messages briefly, Haeun’s name was in bold, her latest text being two hours ago.

_Haeun-i: Thank you for giving him a good scold, heheheh_

_Haeun-i: I’m also sorry for lashing out at you. You weren’t even involved, it’s just, I think I always associate both of you as a one whole package and it had…_

_Haeun-i: made sense, I guess, that I also should be angry at you. I wasn’t thinking clearly_

_Haeun-i: He had apologised, last night. I should’ve realised that I have an idiot for a big brother_

_Haeun-i: Quite sure he also sent me a sobbing voice note saying sorry repeatedly. You were with him, right? I heard your voice in the background. I thought he stopped drinking?_

_Haeun-i: Anyways, thank you for supporting me! Reply me when you’re sober, okay?_

Byungyoon cracked a smile, his head less in pain now. Sungmin did cry, and it wasn’t really baffling per se, but it was—what was the word again, he wasn’t truly sober to remember—a milestone, a fucking milestone—for Sungmin’s emotional growth. His fingers could still probably count how many times he saw Sungmin’s tears.

He remembered the first time Sungmin saw him cry, and it took every shred of Sungmin’s pride to say “it’s okay to cry, _sometimes,_ ” while hugging him. Byungyoon could never forget that, because Sungmin was really trying, constantly trying to improve himself.

Admittedly, being held accountable for his illegal drug use was boosting the growth three times faster. The Sungmin everyone saw now, the long-haired Ryu Sungmin, it was who Byungyoon saw since the day they got close enough to lend each other their own fan collectibles of Dynamic Duo and some other rappers. He finally felt safe to show the world his true self; laid-back, vulnerable, yet not to be messed with (still).

He typed back, almost forgot to reply Haeun, saying: _I’m not that drunk~ I just woke up late. It’s okay Haeun, I understand your frustration. And I was with him last night, though he quitted drinking, yeah, last night was the first time in a while. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on getting him trashed again. I’m always here for you, Haeun, if you need me to scold our beloved idiot just ring me._

At the time he finished scanning for any typo he made (he didn’t want Haeun to see his irresponsible arse), Wonjae opened the door, one hand full with a bottle of water and a pack of aspirin, as promised. “Drink first,” he shoved the two into Byungyoon’s hands.

Byungyoon pressed _send_ and thanked Wonjae, gulped down everything in a blink, and sighed happily. The drive home, too, was nearly pleasant—if Wonjae wasn’t swearing him out. It was mostly because Wonjae thought he was being stupid, he was _tormenting_ himself by acting like nothing would happen and that he’d be fine with the end of everything, simultaneously.

Led a life full of paradoxes, that was what he was.

The words “yes,” and “I know,” were used (solely from Byungyoon) nineteen times in the spare of forty minutes’ drive.

* * *

Choi I-Like-To-Scold-Stupid-People Wonjae was apparently enjoying his time on Byungyoon’s dining room. Byungyoon just dressed himself (after taking a very cold shower) when he found Wonjae with a bowl of cereal from his kitchen. “Help yourself,” he said. There was an empty bowl on his table, beside his huge box of almond flake cereal.

“Where did you get the milk?” Byungyoon frowned as he lifted the carton closer to his bowl, and poured the cereal first into his.

“I bloody bought it, of course. I’ve taken the liberty to check your fridge but you don’t have any,” Wonjae shrugged.

He was out of milk. It wasn’t like Byungyoon had cereal for breakfast often, he liked to eat it straight from the box when he was watching telly. “All right,” he said, pouring the milk and passed the carton to Wonjae who started refilling his bowl.

“By the way, your phone rang while you were in the shower. You should probably call them back, it rang twice,” Wonjae frowned. “It’s on your sofa,”

“Shit. Why didn’t you—” Byungyoon sprang up from the chair opposite of Wonjae, pausing. Wonjae was raising his eyebrow, challenging him by silently saying _don’t you dare blame me_ , and Byungyoon shook his head with a defeated grin. “Never mind,”

He rushed to his sofa. It was probably from his manager, since they had been in a discussion with a high-end fashion brand about being one of their ambassadors—but it wasn’t really going smoothly because the brand mentioned was demanding too much that Byungyoon wanted to decline the offer immediately. His manager glared at him and told him to be patient, and he should let him handle it. He agreed.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t his manager. It was Sungmin. Byungyoon decided to call him back, his heartbeat suddenly rising without really knowing why.

“Hey, sorry, I was showering when you rang.” he muttered, after a rasp customary greeting—calling his name—from Sungmin. He walked back to where Wonjae was, resting his body on his chair and continued eating his soggy cereal.

 _“Is Wonjae still with you?”_ Sungmin asked, his tone low and still raspy though Byungyoon guessed that he was already awake for a while. He could picture him, in his sofa, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“Yes. How did you know?”

Wonjae stood, hands holding his bowl, asking the caller’s identity because Byungyoon had looked at him when he answered Sungmin’s question.

 _Sungmin_ , he mouthed. Wonjae smirked while he walked away from the table.

 _“Saw his Instagram update. I can’t really remember what happened this morning, but he picked you up, rather forcefully.”_ Sungmin breathed.

Byungyoon let out a low chuckle. “He didn’t, Sungmin. You’re so dramatic.”

_“Am not! You also decided to leave me with terrible hangover, with no explanation provided.”_

Wonjae was back on his seat, offering Byungyoon a bottle of water. When Byungyoon nodded, he looked irritated as if Byungyoon was supposed to say no, then he got up and left Byungyoon, again, to bring him one.

“You won’t remember if someone’s saying anything to you when you’re still drunk,” Byungyoon said, and he heard a dull thud from Sungmin’s side. Most likely, he was placing his mobile to the nearest table to put his hair into a low bun.

 _“Point taken,”_ Sungmin sounded a little distant, and Byungyoon knew he was right. He tried not to project it in his consciousness (and failed miserably), the hair, the nape, the baby hairs—but it was so vivid and he was going crazy. _“Still! He’s stealing you from me,”_

Wonjae shoved the cold bottle on his left cheek, startling him. Byungyoon mouthed a silent _thanks,_ gulped the water three times, and safely continued his conversation with Sungmin. “He’s not, you arsehole. I’m not a property someone can steal, Sungmin.” He said, with a little too much glee. In front of him, Wonjae brought his eyebrows down, judging Byungyoon effectively.

 _“I was meant to be accompanied until dinner when in distress,”_ Sungmin spoke like he didn’t hear Byungyoon’s previous reply. _“Why is he still with you?”_

“Why not?” Byungyoon frowned, confused. “I mean, I’m helping him with his album, anyway,”

After he said that, because for god’s sake what was he supposed to say when Sungmin kept pestering him—Wonjae’s eyes widen, as expected. Byungyoon looked at him apologetically, guessing that Wonjae was still sensing the conversation.

 _“… Right.”_ Sungmin said, his tone inferring he was equally confused. This had turned into a weird conversation. _“Right. I thought—whatever. No. I mean, yes. What am I even saying, lord,”_ Sungmin huffed. All right, if the conversation before this hadn’t confused Byungyoon enough, he was utterly gobsmacked by now.

“What’s wrong, Sungmin?” he asked.

 _“No… Nothing. I’ve got to go, the jjajangmyeon delivery man has arrived.”_ His voice was louder now, clearer. _“See you later, Byungyoon,”_ he said, and ended the call before Byungyoon could reply.

Byungyoon put his mobile next to his empty bowl, prompting a question from Wonjae. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know. He’s a bit wobbly today,” Byungyoon frowned.

Wonjae shook his head. “No, I know—I mean, why are you telling him about helping me with my _new album_?”

“Oh—well. I mean, you updated an Instagram story, showing that you’re at my house, do you think people won’t expect a collaboration?” Byungyoon grimaced. “And he kept asking if you were still with me, I panicked. Sorry?” he continued, his voice gradually getting higher.

“Okay, that was stupid of me. Now we both have to face the consequences and you really need to appear in my title track,” Wonjae sighed. He didn’t look like he was devastated, the evil mastermind, he must had been planning for this all along.

Byungyoon was about to say, _sure, it’ll be fun,_ but Wonjae suddenly slammed the table and loudly exclaimed, “Wait, he was calling _twice_ to ask about me?”

“Uh… yes?”

“Don’t you get it? Please tell me you’re not as stupid as you look,” Wonjae’s eyes were glinting with devilish mirth, or he was just delighted and Byungyoon should stop demonising his friend in his mind. He got no answer and Byungyoon had to admit he didn’t get what the fuck Wonjae was talking about. “He’s jealous of me, Byungyoon,” he continued, impatient.

Byungyoon’s initial thought was that Wonjae was definitely the descendant of devil. Of fucking course Wonjae was screwing with him. “What the fuck,”

“It’s painstakingly obvious! He even thought, what, I stole you from him, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but it was just him being dramatic,” Byungyoon bit his lower lip. He didn’t know why he was in self-denial by the possibility of Sungmin being possessive of him. It didn’t sound… right, inside his mind. “Don’t say useless shits, Wonjae,” he said, sinking into his chair.

“I’m not, Byungyoon, he’s definitely jealous. Why am I _still_ with you? I mean, why would he ask that?” Wonjae slammed the table once again in frustration, and he made and air quote at the word _still_.

Sungmin did say that. A couple of times, actually. “All right. Then what, I bet he won’t be aware that he was showing jealous tendencies.” Byungyoon said gloomily. “Again, maybe he thought I have another confidant and that he was displeased with the idea,”

“Since when is a friendship mutually exclusive only for two people? It isn’t like the both of you have small social circles.” Wonjae explained like he had no patience for idiots. “Unless you and Sungmin are dating—even polyamorous relationships exist, Byungyoon, though I don’t think any of you are into that. Are you?”

“No, I don’t think I want that.” Byungyoon dragged his hands to his face, groaning. He couldn’t help but to be convinced by Wonjae, and he didn’t know how to process. “So, what now?”

“It’s a start, you idiot, you have to start controlling the wheel. You should know where you’re headed and this, this is a start. Just in case you want to remind him sometime in the future,”

Byungyoon groaned again, louder, while Wonjae seemed to be a bit too happy for his suffering.

* * *

Wonjae left after giving Byungyoon a rather hasty load of crap of a pep-talk about not giving up chasing his happiness and to never lose hope, because he had a date planned with his mum later that afternoon (Byungyoon liked to see himself as a non-judgemental person, and it was nice of Wonjae to do that, really). Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, Byungyoon thought.

Byungyoon swung his bedroom door open, staring forlornly at his messy, forgotten bed. He dived right in the soft mattress with a groan, feeling the cool temperature from disuse the night before. Sungmin… his head hurt thinking about the prat.

But Sungmin.

Sungmin never really cared about Byungyoon’s other friends.

No, wait. Scratch that. Sungmin _knew_ there wasn’t anyone else, and he knew Byungyoon’s friends as Byungyoon knew his because they were usually the same people around them: Wonjae, Seunghyun, even Siyoung, and the other Wonjae—a small world, indeed. Except, maybe, people from the church Byungyoon and his family frequented, but Byungyoon could barely make small talks with them anyway.

Byungyoon imagined what he’d say if Sungmin ever brought the topic up; because, really, all he wanted to do was to kneel in front of his best friend and look him in the eyes and say, “I’m yours, why would you be jealous; every part of me will surrender under your command.” And probably regretting instantly, wishing that he was a candle that could melt away.

Very fucking submissive, he thought. Byungyoon shook his head in dismay.

His pessimistic part was repeatedly saying, _don’t get your hopes up_. But he couldn’t help himself. How could he not, his optimistic side argued, Sungmin would also be unbalanced without him. They couldn’t function without each other; it was clear as a day. The main point was to make Sungmin realise that.

Byungyoon buried himself with his pillow. No. _No._ The point was to accept anything Sungmin would offer, to accept his decision if he wanted to leave. The point was, he had to stop imagining how Sungmin would react and actually start doing it.

But even Haeun, this morning… _I always associate both of you as a one whole package_.

No, Lee Byungyoon, stop that.

God. Good god, it was all beginning to blur and he didn’t understand. It was all leading him to something; a closure, maybe. Or a continuation, his heart supplied hopefully. It was all questions inside his head, every query knitted together and still missing something vital: the answers.

But continuation wouldn’t work without communication. He wouldn’t get the answers if he didn’t ask. So, when he unplugged his mobile phone from the charger to call Sungmin, he was half surprised that Sungmin already messaged him bearing the same idea.

_Fool Sungmin: Dinner dinner dinner dinner dinner_

Byungyoon smiled fondly without really realising it. Dinner, of course. _Sungmin was meant to be accompanied until dinner when in distress_ , he repeated the words like a spell.

 _Sure_ , he replied. _I want chicken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this month is quite hectic. my life is a mess, i probably caught the fucking virus by staying at home, and i haven't done any of my school assignments. wish me luck. also i'm really really sorry this chapter is rather short, but this chapter is the build up and i guess you know what'll happen next. hehe.


End file.
